


As You Were: The Rise and Fall of Rey Niima

by mzladybird



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Humor, But like...are we not going to talk about how Reylo is SnowBaz is Reylo?, Dark but not really but kinda?, Did I mention there will be sex? There will be sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I'm sorry Rainbow Rowell, Inspired by Carry On, Real talk though there will be intense themes, Slow Burn, TW Childhood Trauma, TW self-harm, Tell me you don't see it, Until all of a sudden it's NOT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-28 20:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30144879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzladybird/pseuds/mzladybird
Summary: Rey Niima is the worst Chosen One who's ever been chosen.That's what her roommate, Benjamin Organa-Solo, says. And Ben might be evil and a werewolf and a *complete git*…but he's probably right.Half the time, Rey can't even make her wand work, and the other half, she starts something on fire. Sure, she’s got the Skywalker Saber, but there are only so many problems that can be solved by cutting them in half. Her final year at the Kenobi School of Magicks should be a cakewalk, especially after the clusterfuck that was spring semester (ugh). But a mysterious shadow has been following her around all summer, with chaos never far behind.When a series of breaches to campus leave a professor dead and the whole school reeling, Rey will have to convince Ben to put aside nine years of bitter rivalry to stop the forces threatening not just Kenobi, but all of magic. Secrets will be revealed, old horrors resurrected, and Rey will finally have to answer the question she’s always avoided:What the fuck is she going to do after graduation?——————The Reylo/Carry On mashup that no one needed. Excessive liberties taken with literally everything. Please mind the rating and tags!
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 102
Kudos: 66





	1. Dancing with Myself, or How to Outrun a Thunderstorm

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO THANKS FOR COMING TO THIS SHITSHOW
> 
> A few points before we begin:
> 
> 1\. This fic is ABSURD. Full stop.
> 
> 2\. This fic is based on the Carry On/Simon Snow series by Rainbow Rowell, which I finished this weekend because I am very, VERY late to the party.
> 
> 3\. You do not need to know the series to enjoy this fic, though I recommend if you haven't read it that you set this mediocre piece of mashup trash down and go about reading the *real deal* because it. Is. Amazing.
> 
> 4\. This fic is decidedly ADULT (hence the rating) and I want to state now that intense/explicit themes will be explored.
> 
> 5\. If you've read my previous work (A Cailín Came to Town) know this will be veeeeery different! That said, I'm a sucker for over-the-top drama and dark antiheroes, so expect certain things to feel *quite* the same.
> 
> Grab your wands and buckle up, heauxs! The train to Kenobi School of Magicks is ✨now departing✨
> 
> \----------------------------------------
> 
> Chapter Song: Dancing with Myself, by Billy Idol

**1**

**Dancing with Myself, or How to Outrun a Thunderstorm**

Rey Niima could feel someone watching her.

Correction, several people were watching her, but that was to be expected. She’d just knocked over a rack of postcards in the middle of the northbound terminal. Even at the ungodly hour of six thirty, the Tube was bustling with commuters on their way in and around London. A few people gave her side-eye as she shucked her bag off her shoulder and bent down to scoop up the colorful slips of cardstock. A man offered his help, which she politely declined. But none of those eyes were the ones raising the hair on the back her neck.

She picked up the last card. It was the one that had caught her attention, not least because it was the only postcard in the deck that _wasn’t_ of London. She ran her thumb across the glossy image of the San Diego coastline, tracing the outline of the tiny boats on the water with her nail. She looked at the other cards she held in her hand, then glanced back at the stand. Not a single matching card.

Her skin broke out in chills then, and she turned back on instinct. The crowd was thick, the whistle of a train cutting through the air like a scream. She squinted, searching for whatever— _whoever—_ it was she could feel staring.

It hovered in the shadows, between a magazine kiosk and a coffee stand. No, it _was_ the shadows. She couldn’t make out its exact shape, just that it was thin and quivered softly, like a mirage fading in and out of focus as it stared back at her. Could shadows stare? This one could, she thought. Because every time she stared back, it visibly startled, then disappeared.

She stepped forward, though she wasn’t sure what for. It’s not like she could go after it. The whistle blew again, followed by an announcement for the train to Watford Junction departing in two minutes. With a mental shake, she stuffed the postcards back into the flimsy plastic stand, hoisted her bag, and made for the platform.

Later, when she was settled in her seat and digging into the bag of chips she’d bought for breakfast, she would remember that Ben was from San Diego.

*****

Rey woke up to the train jolting. She flailed, one arm smacking the window while the hand of the other gripped the back of the seat in front of her before she could break her face against it. The ominous screech of the wheels preceded the flickering of the cabin lights.

Pulling her headphones down, she looked around, but the cabin was empty. She’d transferred trains an hour ago. The line from King’s Cross to Kenobi School of Magicks connected just outside of Watford, and she was probably the only student in the last fifty years who still came to Kenobi by train. Everyone else either lived in ancient castle estates in the surrounding country or, you know, drove. Ben once came back to school by helicopter, but then again, his godfather was Cornelius Snoke. The Head of the Coven wasn’t exactly modest about his means.

The train lurched again, and this time the lights went completely out. It was midmorning, but the overcast outside left the unlit cabin dark. Rey jumped up from her seat, her hand instinctively going to her hip. She palmed the hilt of the Skywalker Saber, ready to unsheathe its magical blade at any moment.

As the train came to a fitful stop, Rey ran to the opposite window and looked out. They were in the middle of the deep countryside, with nothing but green pasture and sheep for miles. She craned her head to see if something was blocking the train further down the line. Nothing. She looked behind, and her stomach sank.

Black clouds, inky and uncharacteristically malevolent, sat low on the horizon. As if waiting for her to notice them, they began to swell and roll, staticky lightning spitting out to burn the grass beneath. They were closing in on the train.

“Bollocks,” She growled, shoving away from the window. She turned around, and screamed.

“ _Ben?_ ”

Benjamin Organa-Solo jumped like a cat caught off-guard. He whipped around to stare at her with wide eyes, a toothbrush hanging from his foam-filled mouth. His cheeks pinkened, no doubt mirroring how red Rey’s face was because…well, he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug black boxers.

Well, not really standing _there._ No doubt he was somewhere far away, hunched in front of a bathroom sink. Maybe he was still in San Diego. Or his godfather’s manor in Hampshire. Was he already back at Kenobi? Was he in their bathroom? She could picture the counter, her corner empty but his already meticulously arranged with all his fancy colognes and shaving creams and—

“—the _fuck,_ Niima?” His eyes did a quick sweep of the cabin, “Where am I?!”

“Train, just outside of Sheffield.”

This had happened before. Neither of them knew why. Ben once theorized it had something to do with the whole dyad thing, though Rey never understood why a ‘magical attunement’ between two magicians would cause spontaneous facetime sessions in the form of literal apparitions. Sometimes he came to her, sometimes she went to him. The summer before fifth year, she’d rounded the corner of her block in West End to find herself suddenly walking down a flight of stairs in a house she’d never seen before. At the bottom, Ben was having the mother of all shouting matches with his father, Han.

“You have to talk to someone, Ben—”

“Like hell I do! And tell them what? ‘My name is Benjamin Solo, and sometimes I cut myself to keep from biting people—”

His eyes had locked on hers then, and while Han kept arguing, oblivious to her presence, the look Ben had given her promised _murder._

The lights flickered back on, and Ben frowned up at them before leveling her with a glare.

“Could this at least have waited until after breakfast? I—” He stopped short, a finger going to his ear as if it were ringing. His eyes narrowed on the headset around her neck. “God, are you seriously listening to Billy Idol?”

Rey forgot the music was still playing. Ben hated her music. “You can hear that?”

“Unfortunately,” He grumbled.

Naked Ben looked around, and Rey wondered how much of their surroundings he could see. It varied each time they bonded this way. The first time they’d done it—the summer after second year—Ben had found her curled up under her bed, crying unconsolably. One of the other girls in the group home had taken her school jumper and burned a hole in it with a lighter she’d lifted off a staff member. The girl (Maggie, curse her) had tired of Rey going on and on about how much she loved her ‘special’ school, about her friends Rose and Finn and Poe, how she couldn’t _wait_ to go back, and took it upon herself to remind Rey that Kenobi School be damned, she would always be the girl someone left on the steps of a corner store in the borough of Niima.

She’d startled so badly when his face popped over the edge of the bed—“Niima, what are you doing under here?”—she actually cut her forehead on the box spring. But then Ben had reached for her, and it hadn’t mattered that he was supposed to be halfway across the world or that blood was running between her eyebrows or that stupid Maggie had burned her jumper. She’d taken his hand and let him pull her out. Let him wrap her in his skinny arms and hold her while she sobbed. When the tears had finally run dry and she’d pulled back, he’d faded on the air like sand in the wind.

It had freaked her out so thoroughly that the next time she saw him, on the first day back at school, she’d tackled him right there in the courtyard. And then he’d thrown her off like she had the plague and didn’t speak to her for a week.

Ben pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth, his scowl deepening. “You’re vibrating. What’s going on?”

“I need your help.”

“My he–wait, did you _call_ me here?”

“No! That is…not intentionally. But now that you’re here, any chance you know how to fix _that_?”

She pointed to the roiling clouds barreling towards them. Ben’s eyes widened, his brows sharp black slashes cutting downward.

“Jesus, what did you do this time?”

“Nothing! It – I don’t know what it is. Just tell me how to get rid of it before it swallows this train.”

Ben crossed his arms then, and Rey did her best not to stare at the way it made the muscles of his biceps flex and bulge.

“No.”

“No?” _What?_

“You’re the Chosen One,” He jerked his chin at the impending storm, “You figure it out.”

“You know I can’t!”

“Sure you can. Just blow it up like you do everything else. Point, and…” He used his toothbrush like a wand, then mimicked an explosion.

“I don’t do that!” She totally did that.

“No? Alright then, show me what you do.”

She growled, wondering if he was corporeal enough to tackle, but a sudden clap of magical thunder shook the train hard enough to send them both stumbling. Ben gritted his teeth and exhaled heavily through his nose.

“Why do I _always_ …” He closed his eyes briefly, “Fuck, fine. Try ‘Here Comes the Sun _.’_ ”

“Right, good, yes,” Rey grabbed her wand and turned to the impending storm.

“ _Here comes the sun…here comes the sun and I say…it's all right_.”

It was a standard spell, one they’d learned second year in Elocution and simple enough that even _she_ couldn’t fuck it up. Like all spells, its strength lay in the words’ universal familiarity among Normals. The lyrics were recognizable in any accent, any key. Didn’t matter if you were English, American, Malayan, or Taiwanese— _everybody_ knew the Beatles.

Everybody except for the clouds, apparently, because they did not disperse.

“Not working, Ben!”

“Alright, alright. Do _Rain, rain go away_.”

Again, nothing.

“Ben!”

“ _Okay!_ Okay, uh,” He wiped his mouth hastily and pinched his brow, “Maybe we should focus on the train instead. Get it moving.”

“I don’t even know why it stopped!”

The clouds were upon them now, hitting the back of the train with the force of gale winds. Rey flew forward, knocking into Ben’s alarmingly solid chest. Fucking hell, he’d never been so real before—

Another gust of wind rocked the cabin, and Rey’s heart palpitated as she felt the train tip slightly to one side. Lightning streaked past the windows, illuminating Ben’s hazel brown eyes as they flickered from Rey’s face to her wand to the storm outside. He turned her in his arms, so her back was to his front, both hands coming around her wrists to point her wand down the aisle towards the front of the train.

“Repeat after me,” He spoke directly into her ear, raising his voice over the howl of the winds, “ _I think I can, I think I can!_ ”

“Really, Ben. ‘The Little Engine’?”

Another teeter to the side. They bumped into the seats to their right, and Ben’s arms tightened around her.

“Say it, Niima!”

“I think I can! I think I can!”

“Louder!”

“ _I think I can! I think I can!_ ”

The train trembled beneath them.

“Oh my god, Ben! I think it’s working!”

“Again! I think I can, I think I can…”

“ _I think I can, I think I can…_ ”

Rey repeated the words like a mantra as the train slowly sputtered underfoot, the gears moaning against the magic. Inch by inch, the wheels began to turn.

_I think I can, I think I can…_

She could feel him around her. Could feel the heat of his skin radiating through her ratty red zip-up. His breath tickled her neck where he pressed his lips to her ear, whispering the words until she felt them in her bones. Something bright filled the center of her chest. She knew that feeling. The warmth of her magic, expanding rapidly like hot air lifting a balloon. She closed her eyes and fell further back against him as it grew. Falling…she was falling into the magic, falling into _him_ …

No. Not falling.

Pushing.

“I think I can! I think I can!”

The train lurched forward so swiftly that Rey would have faceplanted in the aisle if it weren’t for Ben holding her upright. His voice was strong in her ears, and he must have realized at the same moment she did that it wasn’t her words but _his_ moving the train.

His words, thrust up by her magic as she let it flow out of her and into him.

He opened his mouth, and she gave another push.

“I think I can! _I think I can!_ ”

Forget sputtering—the train was accelerating now, picking up velocity with such shocking speed that for the briefest moment Rey worried it would get going _too_ fast. But as Ben continued to cast his spell, Rey let the magic she was feeding him recede bit by bit, and the train eventually set to a cruise. They both watched, panting, as the dark clouds dissipated around them.

Rey slumped back against Ben and laughed breathlessly. His arms briefly flexed around her, and something new bloomed in her chest. It was warm, like magic, and yet decidedly _not_. She could feel the blush on her cheeks, but the thought of stepping away made a small part of her howl in objection. She inhaled subtly, tasting him on the back of her tongue. He always smelled damp and cool in a good way, like a misty forest, rich and earthy and—

Ben staggered back, and Rey nearly fell on her ass without the support of his chest behind her. He knocked an angry fist against her shoulder, spinning her around to face him.

“What the _fuck_ was that?”

“I—” She swallowed, cupping the back of her hot neck with a nervous hand. His eyes were livid.

“You did something to me. What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“That was _not_ nothing,” He threw her another dark look, then scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue, “…it tasted like honeydew. Ugh.”

“I – did I hurt you?”

“What? No, but that…” He raked a hand through his hair, looking around the cabin with wild eyes, “God, all of this is so _weird_.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened. I just…pushed.”

He turned back to her, his expression blank. “You pushed.”

“Yeah! It’s like…you were saying the words, and I could feel the magic wanting to come out and I just…I pushed.”

He kept staring a moment, his face a perfect mask of stone. Even his stormy eyes were shuttered, and she fidgeted in place as the churning of the wheels and Billy Idol’s grainy vocals buzzing out of her headphones filled the silence between them. Ben ran a hand down his face—his universal show of exasperation—and Rey tried her best not to stare at the lines of his torso.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this,” He muttered tiredly, turning away from her. God, if she thought it was hard to keep from staring at the _front_ of him—

“Ben?”

“What.”

“Thank you. For helping me”

He shot her an indecipherable look over his shoulder. A million thoughts flickered in those intense eyes, and she could never quite make sense of any of them. It was always like this with him.

“Not like I had much of a choice.”

But he did. He always had a choice. And despite every bitter curse and snide comment they’d volleyed at each other—despite nine years of competition and enmity and outright _war_ sometimes—he’d also saved her ass so many times she’d long lost track. He’d not once left her stranded.

Not once.

“Yes, well, regardless,” She took a step towards him, and he took a step back. He was always stepping back.

“Whatever,” He ran a hand up his neck and across the back of his head, “I’ll…see you at school.”

Ben turned away, walking down the aisle. A curious hollowness settled in the center of Rey’s chest as she watched him go.

“Niima?” He called over his shoulder, his voice taking on a papery quality as if a wall had come down between them. He was already fading around the edges.

“Yes?”

“Quit staring at my ass.”

He was gone before she could properly tell him to fuck off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your thoughts in the comments below!


	2. Don’t Stop Me Now, or How to Knock Out a Troll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have not read the Carry On series:
> 
> 1\. Do not despair! This fic, while inspired by the series, is very much its own story and does not require prior knowledge to be enjoyed. I will do my best to provide proper context for the setting and all premises related to the series (how magic works, the social dynamics of the World of Mages, etc.) – if I ever miss the mark, please let me know!
> 
> 2\. I'm not saying you have to read the books, but like...you should probably at least check out the cover art because hoeeeee boy 😍🥵 
> 
> 3\. I hope you like teenage lust, since this story is basically me wrapping plot around longing looks and wistful sighs and dreams of *heavy petting* (followed by actual smut because...it's me.)
> 
> 4\. I'm so happy to see old and new friends in the comments! Y'all know I live to hear your thoughts, so please keep 'em coming :D
> 
> Next stop: ANGSTVILLE!
> 
> Chapter song: Don't Stop Me Now, by Queen

**2**

**Don’t Stop Me Now, or How to Knock Out a Troll**

“Question,” Finn held up his hand, interrupting Rey mid-sentence. “Why exactly was the train stopped?”

“No clue. I think it had something to do with the storm.”

“The magic storm.” Rose clarified.

“Wait,” Poe frowned, “I thought the train was magic.”

Rey shook her head. “No, the train was _stopped_. By the storm. And the storm was magic.”

“And you started the train, which was stopped, _with_ magic.” Poe looked like his head was hurting.

“With Ben Solo,” Rose was bouncing in her seat, “Who _was naked?!_ ”

“Not _naked_ naked,” Rey could feel her cheeks flaming, “Just…scantily clad.”

Rose had hearts in her eyes, and the grin that split Finn’s face was properly lascivious. His elbows came down on the table, hands folding beneath his chin.

“Details, please.”

Poe’s fork froze midway to his mouth, his glare mildly wounded. “Hey!”

Finn ignored his boyfriend, and Rose slapped her palms on the tabletop, giving Rey a loaded look. “ _Graphic_ details.”

It shouldn’t have surprised Rey that this was the part of the story on which Rose fixated. Or Finn, for that matter. Half the school—mostly the girls, but definitely some of the boys—were madly in lust with her roommate.

It couldn’t be helped. He was the dictionary definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Seriously, those were the three words that had come to her mind nine years ago, when the Crucible cast them together as roommates on the first day of school. Okay, maybe not those _exact_ words—at eleven years old he’d been a beanstalk with a bad bowl cut. But time and puberty had proven _very_ kind to Ben Solo.

He wasn’t just pretty, though. He was smart. Like…wicked smart. _Speaks-four-languages_ smart. He’d been top of their class for the past eight years, a position he was all but certain to maintain in their ninth and final year at Kenobi.

Oh, and he was captain of their football club. _And_ he played perfect concert piano.

Finally, he was _American_. Why this earned him points confused Rey. Weren’t Brits supposed to look down on Americans as uncouth? Obnoxious? The problem was that Ben had more class and grace in his pinky than Rey had in her whole body (his words). And it’s not like he had that apple-pie-Captain-America golden boy thing going for him. No, Ben was more like an old Hollywood heartthrob. All Gregory Peck brows and Marlon Brando smirks, curse him.

Kenobi was full of brilliant magicians from all over the world, but Benjamin Organa-Solo was in a league of his own.

And then there was Rey.

The orphan girl from Niima.

The Greatest Mage the world had ever seen, and also the worst.

The Chosen One.

She picked up her egg sandwich and tore off a heavy bite.

“God, you lucky bitch,” Rose sighed, tipping her head back, “What I wouldn’t give for that man to poof into my room one day wearing nothing but righteous indignation and dress me down for wasting his time.”

Rey guffawed, nearly spraying her mouthful across the table, at the exact moment the devil himself stepped into the dining hall.

Christ, you’d think he was Moses parting the Red fucking Sea. People literally stopped mid-step and adjusted to make way for the Skywalker Heir. He paid them no mind, his strides long and sure as he strutted over to what Rose had uncreatively termed the ‘cool kids’ table.’ Armitage Hux and Bazine Netal were already seated, waiting for him.

Rey watched as Ben passed, chewing absently (with her mouth open, the way he loathed). As ninth years, they were given the option of dressing in the standard green and plum uniforms or an outfit of their choosing (provided it fit the criteria of ‘buttons, knits, no denim.’) Rey cared little for fashion, as evidenced by the fact she was still wearing last year’s checkered jumper and khaki pants rolled up at the ankles. Her shoes were the only article of clothing she owned that weren’t school issued: a pair of white Onitsuka Tigers with bright yellow stripes. Her messy brown hair was pulled back in its signature low ponytail, the wispy bits tickling her temples. She looked the same as she always did, and she was fine with that. New year, same Rey.

Ben, however, had switched out his traditional forest green sweater and white undershirt for a black sweater and button-down, untucked and rolled mid-forearm. His khakis were gone, replaced by pressed black pants with a slim fit that made his long legs look even longer. He still wore his usual black Doc Martens, but they looked different with the cuffs of his pants tucked into them. He was like some kind of dark prince on holiday…or the front man for an Indie pop outfit. And then there was the whole hair thing.

Ben’s hair was the most magical thing about him after his _actual_ magic. Long and absurdly thick, it fell in inky black waves around his face, softening the hard lines of his cheekbones and perpetually clenched jaw. Many Kenobi students had discovered the joys of masturbation to thoughts of that hair wrapped around their fingers (not that she was speaking from experience, _ahem._ )

When he played piano, it fell in his eyes like a glossy curtain. He twirled it absently while he studied. Whenever Rey did something to piss him off—six to seven times a day, generally speaking—he would rake his fingers through those lovely locks and tug in frustration.

Even now, as he passed their table without so much as a glance her way, those strands shifted and swayed with his steps as if flipping _themselves_.

Bazine—pretty, idiotic Bazine—smiled brightly as he approached, turning her chin up expectantly. Ben bent and kissed her lightly, taking the seat beside her and nodding at Hux.

Rey resumed eating her sandwich.

That Ben Organa-Solo and Bazine Netal were dating was so painfully cliché it didn’t even warrant reaction beyond the initial eye-roll. It was predestined. Ben was the Skywalker Heir, which made him practically royalty in the World of Mages, and the Netals were one of the Old Families. Rumors were already spreading of a wedding next summer, which frankly boggled Rey’s mind. They’d only just turned twenty, for fuck’s sake. Rey didn’t even know where she’d be living next year, and Ben and Bazine had probably already begun to shop for apartments in the city.

Ben and Bazine. Even their fucking _names_ matched.

They were a power couple. Everything about them made sense. And yet.

_And yet._

Ben never really seemed all that interested in Bazine. Even now, with his arm slung across her shoulders while she played with his fingers, his chin rested in his free hand, his face turned away and his expression undeniably bored. Bazine and Hux seemed oblivious to his dour mood, engrossed in conversation—no doubt about something dumb and/or elitist. But Ben’s eyes were far away, glazed in that way they got when he was lost in thought.

As if he could feel Rey watching him, Ben frowned and shifted those hazel eyes until they collided with hers. His gaze immediately hardened, but in that brief instant before his annoyance surfaced, she caught sight of the sadness there. He rarely let it show, but after sharing a room for nine years, she’d learned to recognize the melancholy that lurked in the shadows of his irises. And despite her better judgement and nearly a decade of bad blood between them, it always pulled at something in her heart to see it.

She wondered if Bazine knew he was a werewolf.

Okay, to be fair, Rey didn’t _know,_ either. She’d never seen explicit proof to confirm her suspicions, nor had anyone else as far as she was concerned. But, like…she was pretty sure.

There were the obvious reasons, of course, namely what had happened with his mother. Leia Organa, estranged daughter of the great Anakin Skywalker and Kenobi’s youngest headmaster, was tragically killed defending the school from a pack of them when Ben was just five years old. No one knew how the werewolves managed to break past the magical barrier protecting Kenobi from the world outside. But they had, overrunning the main courtyard and attacking the nursery for the children of staff and faculty. Headmistress Organa had faced the pack alone, distracting them long enough for the little ones to be evacuated before setting the whole building on fire—with her inside of it. Fifteen years later, many details of the attack were still shrouded in rumor and secrecy, and it remained unclear just _who_ had orchestrated the assault.

The Coven maintained it was another tragic battle in the ongoing Creature Wars that raged on and off between magicians and other magical beings. The Wars were like a vicious carousel ride, a series of highs and lows with no obvious end in sight. Every few years, tensions would reach a boiling point, and one side would strike a blow against the other.

It all started when the Coven exiled the vampires from London after a wave of homicides in the 80s were linked to their proliferation in the city. The bloodsuckers struck back with a raid on Kenobi, turning the children of several prominent Old Families. With their own kin unwittingly forced to the other side, the Coven reached an armistice with the vampires that lasted approximately ten years before another battle ensued. In time, proxy wars took precedence as both sides went after the others’ allies, until everybody was fighting. And then Leia Organa was killed on school grounds.

After the Headmistress’s death, her brother, Professor Luke Skywalker, fled into the Wavering Woods in the foothills north of campus. The Woods were ancient, their heart impenetrable. The fairies had wandered into them long ago, searching for the center of all magic, and never came back. Kenobi students were forbidden to enter the Woods without a chaperone, though it was common for upperclassmen to haze the new students by sending them to roam the forest’s outer edges, and its shadows provided ample cover for couples looking to snog away from supervision.

No one knew _exactly_ what happened to Professor Skywalker. His last words, spoken to current Headmistress Maz Kanata on the main bridge, were vague: “I’m going to stop this war, for now. And one day, for good. Do not follow me.”

Armed with nothing but his wand and the legendary Skywalker Saber, he’d entered the Wavering Woods…and never come back.

The attacks subsided after that, though no one knew exactly why. People speculated it had something to do with the Blast, a single heavy pulse of magic that swept across the British Isles and beyond. It seemed to…reset things. The werewolves did not return. Even the vampires receded into the shadows, properly frightened by whatever had emanated from deep within the Woods. Years would go by without a single confrontation, or so much as a whisper of Skywalker and his legendary saber.

Until Rey’s second year, when Ben chased her across the main bridge at sunset and locked her out of the school for the night—retribution for her accidentally flooding their room with chocolate milk while attempting to cast ‘a glass half-full’. Cold, frightened, and riotously mad, Rey had found herself seeking cover from the evening rains beneath the canopy of the Woods. And that’s when she’d heard it.

A voice, but not quite.

More like a hum.

Someone—some _thing_?—humming her name.

Like any twelve-year-old magician with minimal regard for her own self-preservation, Rey had followed it. Which was how she’d ended up walking deep into the forest until she reached an ancient tree with gnarled, bare branches. At its base, the hilt of a sword stuck out from one of its roots.

She’d reached for it, and that’s when the chimera struck.

Its claws had clipped her on the shoulder (she still had the scar), but she’d managed to duck and roll, tumbling to land against the roots of the tree. The great beast landed a few paces away, whirling back on her. Scrambling to her knees, she’d reached for blade just as it crouched and pounced.

Later, when she recounted the events of that night, people’s eyes would widen at her description of the blade. How it turned blue-white when her hand gripped the hilt. How she pulled it from the tree, and it buzzed as it split the air. How it cut the chimera’s head clean off, like a hot knife through butter. How it _was_ hot, a sword of pure fire and light.

The legendary Skywalker Saber. It had called to her, chosen her.

She was Chosen.

But enough about her. Back to Ben being a werewolf.

Rey knew Ben was a werewolf because, in addition to the attack on the nursery, there was the business of the full moon. Specifically, Ben’s regularly scheduled absence on the eve of each one. Every month, when the moon was high, Ben would disappear for the night to undisclosed locations. As his roommate, Rey was particularly positioned to keep track of his nightly schedule. She’d tried to follow him innumerable times, prompting some of their most epic battles. Like the time he caught her tracing his steps across the courtyard and turned the main green into liquid cement with a ‘Caution, Wet Pavement.’ She’d stood there with her feet fixed to the ground, spitting and cursing, until the groundskeeper found her at sunrise. Running back to their room, she’d caught Ben on his way down the stairs, heading to his first class. She’d tried to cast an ‘Under the Weather’ on him, but the spell backfired and she’d ended up with a storm cloud over her head for two days and a terrible cold.

_Anyways._

There was also the matter of Ben’s size and strength, which one might chalk up to genetics but Rey was preeeetty convinced were signs of heightened physical abilities. He seemed to have extra sensitive hearing, too, though he would argue she was just exceedingly loud and _anyone_ would wake up with her clomping around their room at night. His sense of smell was also suspect. One time, the spring of fifth year, she’d come back to their rooms after what could have been considered a date with Jeffrey Zhou, a sixth year in her Non-magical Defense class (the only subject she was any good at). She’d barely made it across the threshold when Ben sat up from his bed with a sour look on his face.

“Next time, tell Zhou that Axe is an abomination. He’s better off spraying himself with bug repellent.”

He’d stormed out their room before she could even formulate a response.

So, yeah. Just because she’d never seen him changed didn’t mean Ben wasn’t totally, absolutely, most _definitely_ a werewolf.

“Rey?”

She jerked slightly, pulling her eyes from Ben’s glare to look at Poe.

“Yeah?”

“We’re heading to Ancient Atlantean History. You ready?”

She shoved back from the table, grabbing her bag and tray. She could still feel Ben staring at her, but she ignored him.

“Right, coming.”

*****

The World of Mages wasn’t a _world,_ exactly. More like a society, governed by several polities scattered across the globe. The Coven was by far the oldest, and by all accounts the most organized. For centuries, it had been dominated almost exclusively by the Old Families, of which the Skywalkers were one of the oldest. For the most part, old families intermarried in a way that bordered on incestuous, adhering to an arcane notion of magical purity and tradition that was just code for nepotism and power mongering. The exception was Leia Organa, who had fallen in love with a Normal by the name of Han Solo while doing a semester abroad in America. She would go on to defy the wishes of many Coven leaders, most notably her mentor Cornelius Snoke, and marry Han shortly after graduation. Their marriage eventually fell apart—there was a reason magicians and Normals didn’t mix much—and Ben grew up spending summers in the states and the schoolyear at Kenobi. After Leia’s death, he stayed a full year with Snoke, ‘recovering’ from the attack (read: becoming a werewolf) before splitting his time evenly between England and America until his studies began at Kenobi.

“Apparently they let anyone in now.”

Those were the first words Ben had ever spoken to her.

Initially, Rey had thought his hatred for her was simply pureblood elitism—she was, after all, an outsider in their world. She hadn’t known magic existed (nor that she had it) until shortly before arriving at Kenobi. She’d just been the skinny bit from Niima who changed foster families every year. Then one day, shortly after her tenth birthday, someone pushed her down the stairs of the group home—she couldn’t even remember what _for—_ and all of a sudden, she was waking up in the center of a crater blast.

It was like that with her magic. She was either struggling to make even a feather float, or she was leveling a whole block of buildings. No one knew why. _More magic than I’ve ever seen_ , the Headmistress had said when she’d showed up at the shelter where Rey was staying in the aftermath of the explosion. _Like a live wire, plugging straight into the source._

Truth be told, Rey didn’t like using her magic. Magic, itself? She fucking loved that. Loved being around it, loved to watch the way other magicians wielded their power like artists. Loved to watch _Ben_ do magic—with grace, ease, and an efficiency bordering on ruthlessness.

Nothing about her magic was graceful.

Didn’t mean she would trade it for anything. Magic, Kenobi, all of it. Waking up in that crater with the hem of her shirt singed and smoky was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Snoke had always objected to her presence at Kenobi. “We don’t even know what she _is._ ” That’s what she’d heard him say one time. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the Headmistress had left her door open, and Snoke’s voice carried through the stone walls with a scathing timber.

“She’s the Greatest Mage the world has ever seen, Cornelius,” Headmistress Kanata had replied, “Even you must know that.”

As Snoke’s godson, it only made sense Ben would hate her. But what began as a general distaste for what Rey represented—classless riffraff come in from the streets of West End—morphed into a targeted loathing specific to her _person_.

She was too loud.

She was messy and talked—no, _argued_ —in her sleep.

She left crumbs on the carpet between their beds and hung her towel on the shower door instead of her designated hook.

She couldn’t cast a solid spell without lighting something on fire.

She snorted when she laughed and breathed through her mouth.

She was the Chosen One, but she was nobody.

Perhaps worst of all, Ben was the Skywalker Heir, but Rey wielded his uncle’s saber. She’d seen the way he eyed the hilt always tucked into her waistband. Knew how badly he coveted the sword that was his by every right. And yet he would never be able to unsheathe that magical blade. While wands could be exchanged between magicians (with varying efficacy), the Skywalker Saber only answered to one master at a time. And for some reason…that master was now Rey.

*****

Skipping down the steps to her next class, Rey twirled her wand between her fingers in time to Queen blaring from her headphones. They were big, black, ugly things, like shouty earmuffs (again, Ben’s words). But what they lacked in style they made up for in superior sound quality. Ben swore she’d be deaf by twenty-five with how loud she turned them up. And he was probably right, not that it would stop her.

She would later blame the volume for not hearing the screams.

She paused her air guitar, frowning as a wave of terrified students ran past. She turned, and the troll was already upon her.

It was a big bastard, grey and pockmarked in the face with crooked yellow teeth and mismatched eyes. It easily stood over five meters tall, the knuckles of one hand dragging slightly across the stone floor. Its other hand held a wooden club, and Rey’s eyes widened to see the edge of it dripping red. For the love of magic—

She yelped when it let loose a roar, lifting the club and swinging it at her. She stumbled sideways, swallowing her tongue as the wood came within inches of her nose. A fine sprinkling of the blood from its tip spattered her cheeks.

She landed unceremoniously on her ass, rolling away when the club came down again, this time nearly crushing her leg. She scrambled for the saber, and someone down the hall called her name.

“Ms. Niima! Hang on, stay right—”

Professor Akbar’s voice cut short as the troll rounded on him, swinging the club. Rey watched in horror as it caught the man in the side, sending him flying across the hall to hit the opposing wall with a loud crack. Akbar slid to the floor with a groan and did not get back up.

“Hey! Over here, you ugly brute!”

The troll whirled back to her, baring its horrible teeth with a hiss. She was on her feet now, the hilt of the saber in her hands. She summoned the blade, and it charged.

First, she dodged. As the beast barreled past her, she cried out and brought the fiery blade down on the creature’s arm, cutting it clean through. The troll howled, staggering to the right and crashing into the wall so hard the stone buckled.

Rey gave it no time to recover, rushing forward with the blade held high. She sliced into its foot, recoiling at the spray of ink-black blood that erupted from the gash. Some of it hit her in the eye—fuck, it burned. She lifted the corner of her jumper to wipe it away, and that’s when the troll caught her in the side with its other foot. The kick was weak, but it was enough to send her flying a few feet sideways, the saber slipping from her grasp.

No, no, no, no, no, no—

The club came down again, catching the tip of her ponytail. She growled, tugging it free, but then the troll was shifting up onto its knees, snarling madly. It raised the club in its remaining hand and let loose a wild shriek. Panic flooded her veins, and her fingers shook as she fumbled for her wand.

“ _Have a taste of your own medicine!_ ”

The club swerved suddenly, rounding back to clip the troll in the face. Rey turned to see Ben running down the hall, wand pointed forward.

The troll swayed, reeling from the blow meant for Rey. With the creature momentarily incapacitated, Ben skidded to a stop next to her, yanking Rey to her feet. A sharp pain radiated through her side, and she cried out, her hand going to her ribs.

“Christ,” Ben growled, pulling her behind him, “Did you break something?”

“I don’t—” She winced, wheezing through her next breath, “Ribs. My ribs hurt.”

“Stay close. _Cold shoulder!_ ”

Frost bloomed over the troll’s arm, effectively freezing it against the wall. It shrieked, struggling to break free of the ice. Rey’s eyes flickered to the Skywalker saber a few paces away.

“Ben, the saber—”

He stepped in the direction of the blade. But the troll was already breaking out of its frozen hold, and then the club was coming down on the ground between them and the saber. They stumbled backwards, and Rey’s back hit the stone wall.

It had them cornered.

The troll raised the club, and Ben raised his wand.

Rey raised her hands, planting them on Ben’s shoulders.

She pushed.

“ _Hit the sack!_ ”

Ben’s voice was like thunder cracking. Rey could have sworn the walls actually _trembled_ as the force of his spell echoed through the hall. The troll lurched, the club halting mid-swing. And then the creature was collapsing on the floor, out cold.

Ben staggered back, and Rey yelped as he pressed her into the wall in a way that made her ribs scream. He jumped, spinning around with his hands held up.

“Sorry! Sorry, I…”

They stood there, just staring. Ben’s eyes were wide, his lips parted and trembling as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. She got it. She didn’t know what to say, either.

The sound of footsteps and shouts came down the hall, and Ben stepped in front of her, arms spreading slightly to hide her.

It was Headmistress Kanata and Professor Phasma.

“Oh my…” Kanata breathed as they came to a halt a few feet away. Phasma’s hand went to her mouth.

Rey stepped around Ben, gritting her teeth at the way the movement pulled her side, “Professor Akbar, I think he’s hurt—”

Phasma was already running past them towards their fallen colleague. But Headmistress Kanata was looking back and forth between Rey, Ben, and the troll.

“Oh my,” She breathed again, and something about her tone made Rey’s skin pebble. Kanata walked slowly to the troll and bent down, staring at its unconscious face.

“I—” Ben cleared his throat, his voice thick, “I think it’s dead, I’m not sure…”

“You killed it?”

Ben cast Rey a quick look, the question clear in her eyes; she shook her head minutely.

“Yeah. I did.”

The Headmistress looked up then, not at Ben, but at Rey. _Dammit._ She knew.

“Right,” Kanata murmured, turning back at the troll, “Mr. Solo, would you please escort Ms. Niima to the infirmary?”

“Of course, Headmistress.”

Rey frowned when Ben’s arm came around her shoulder; she startled when the other slipped behind her knees. He scooped her up easily, ignoring her objections.

“Ben, really! Put me down—”

“Shut up, Niima,” He growled under breath, “Just…shut up.”

They walked in silence, both foggy in the head and frayed in the nerves. As they passed a window overlooking the green, something called Rey’s eyes up. She smacked Ben’s chest with a sharp “Stop!”

“Fine! Fucking walk, then—”

“No, Ben, _look_!”

He carried them to the window, eyes narrowing where she pointed. It took him a moment to find it, then—

“What is – wait, where’d it go?”

“It does that. I think it knows we see it and runs – evaporates, whatever.”

He frowned down at her. “You’ve seen it before?”

She nodded. “It’s been following me all summer. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, but it got darker, more defined. And then things started happening.”

“What things?”

“Weird things. Stuff falling off the shelves in the grocery store, a car swerving up on the curb with no driver inside. I saw it just a day ago, before I got on the train…”

His brows rose, and he looked back out the window, but the shadow was long gone.

“Have you told anyone?”

“I was planning to tell the Headmistress as soon as I got back to Kenobi. Didn’t think it would follow me here, though…”

“You think it let the troll in?”

“I’m not sure,” Rey bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes, “Ben, if Professor Akbar dies—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Rey.”

Rey. Not Niima. She looked up at him. His eyes were hard, but not unkind. He looked firm. He meant what he was saying.

“It’s not your fault,” He repeated, “Okay?”

She gave a small nod, letting her head fall against his shoulder as he pushed away from the window and resumed carrying her down the hall to the infirmary.

She wished she believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your thoughts in the comments below!


	3. Good Night, or How to Quash a Worm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful people ❤️
> 
> I'm so happy to see everyone getting excited for this fic! As some of you already know, I tend to prefer long-form plot lines, as I find it's better for developing the characters and their relationships. I'm currently thinking this fic will run somewhere around 20 chapters in length, though honestly, it could be even longer depending on how much fun we are having. Either way, prepare for a few more chapters to lay the groundwork for the story's arc before we get properly *juicy*. I promise to make it worth your while!
> 
> Chapter song: Good Night, by the Beatles

**3**

**Good Night, or How to Quash a Worm**

To quote the Americans…this was the pits.

Rey fussed with the thin blanket tucked around her, growling and huffing as she tried to find a good position. One would think the infirmary beds would be a bit more _comfortable_ , all things considered. And yet these sheets were like tissue paper and the mattress might as well be a wooden plank.

Her first day back and she didn’t even get to sleep in her own bed.

Rey loved her bed at Kenobi. It was the best part about her room. Growing up, she was used to sleeping on cots and bunkbed mattresses in cramped rooms with five other girls. The last two years, since she’d aged out of care, she’d spent her summers subletting greasy college rooms and couch surfing through apps while she worked odd jobs at convenience stores and corner markets. Normally, she’d be grateful to have any kind of soft surface to lay on, but nothing, _absolutely nothing_ compared to her bed at Kenobi. Plush yet firm, it was probably as old as the school and yet it cradled every groove of her body as if specially made for her. If she had to guess, some sort of memory magic was at play there.

She shuffled again, adjusting the pillow beneath her head for the umpteenth time. This was by far the worst part about cracking her ribs on the club of a troll.

Ben must be loving this, she thought.

All her years at Kenobi, they had been roommates. The Crucible cast them together on the first day of school, and once assignments were made, they remained binding until graduation. When she’d stumbled from the bushes and all but steamrolled Ben where he was wandering on the other side of the hedge, they’d both been sure it was a mistake. Ben blamed her wonky magic and plebian origins, but Headmistress Kanata had been clear: The Crucible chose them for each other, and its magic was binding.

It was a _real_ Crucible, too. Rey’d been exorbitantly confused when they’d gathered all the new students at the edge of campus before a small firepit on the first day of school. In its center sat a little ceramic pot with a million cracks fanning its sides like spiderwebs. Then Professor Holdo had gone around and pricked everyone’s finger, squeezing droplets of blood into a brass cup.

They’d poured the blood into the Crucible, along with some kind of hot mud, and lit the fire beneath it.

It took her a while to feel the pull of the magic in her belly, as if a magnet deep inside were rising to the surface. But while all the other girls were stumbling around the field, crashing into each other as the Crucible cast its spell, Rey felt herself being pulled _back,_ away from the group. She’d tripped and tumbled towards a high shrub separating the girls from the boys.

And then, she’d burst through it.

He’d been standing on the other side, looking lost and tense as the magic cramped his belly. He clearly felt the pull, too, but had possessed enough restraint to at least pause at the shrub. Rey had not. She’d crashed through the bushes and laid him out right there on the grass.

Dazed, she’d pushed up on skinny arms to look down on him. His eyes had been wide. And then they’d been hard.

“Hi.”

He didn’t respond. She’d scrambled to her feet and held out her hand. He didn’t take it.

“I’m Rey…”

Coming to his knees, he’d given her a thorough onceover, his lip curling slightly.

“I…ah—” Her stomach spasmed then, and she’d stepped forward until her hand knocked against his chest, “I think I’m supposed to shake your hand.”

He’d stared at her outstretched palm, the lines of his face and body tense. But she could see it. His arm trembled at his side, the magic compelling him to accept her. Begrudgingly, and after an impressive pause, he’d taken her hand in his.

“Apparently they let anyone in now.”

And that’s how Rey Niima and Benjamin Organa-Solo had become roommates.

“This is utterly unacceptable,” Was Snoke’s response when he found out. He’d taken his fancy helicopter to campus to tell Headmistress Kanata exactly that, to which she’d simply shrugged and replied, “You know the rules, Cornelius. The Crucible’s decision is binding.”

“Impossible. A boy and girl cannot possibly be expected to share a room—”

“Even if I did ascribe to such antiquated gender divisions, which I do not, you know as well as I that we cannot go against the Crucible on these matters.”

And apparently they _really_ couldn’t, because as infuriated as Snoke had been, Rey and Ben were assigned to their tower suite in Mummers House that same night, and there they would stay for the next nine years.

It was bittersweet, sharing a room with Ben. Bitter because…well, she shared a room with _Ben_. But Mummers House was probably the best dormitory on campus, and their room was by far the nicest. Previously used as staff quarters, it was a spacious en suite dorm at the top of the turret overlooking the moat surrounding school grounds. The windows were high and thin, the ceiling slightly vaulted with a brass candle chandelier that lit when you flipped a wall switch and somehow never dripped wax. Again, magic.

The walls were dark wood, covered in posters and art they’d accumulated over the years, with a long strip of red tape cutting the room in half. To the left, perfectly organized, was Ben’s side. To the right and…less organized, was Rey’s.

The tape, of course, was Ben’s idea, and entirely useless because 1) tape isn’t an actual barrier and 2) Rey didn’t give a fuck about Ben’s side of the room. To be fair, there were times when she’d contemplated sabotaging his carefully arranged desk or mussing his pristine sheets, if only to piss him off. But making a mess of his side of the room fit conveniently into his vision of her as slovenly, immature, and dim. She would not play into the narrative so easily.

That, and she was secretly scared of what he might do should she touch his stuff without permission.

Their shared bathroom was the trickiest part of their living arrangements. For the most part, she avoided it altogether. They’d long ago come to an unspoken agreement that she showered at night and he in the morning. She was the one who stayed up late, and he the one who got up early, which made it fairly easy to avoid each other during bathing hour. Still, nine years sharing the same space ensured a few mishaps and awkward run-ins. She was pretty sure he’d seen her tits at one point—well, what little tit she had—and she had _definitely_ caught a peak of nether region one morning during sixth year when he was running late to class. Not that she’d been peaking or anything.

(Bazine was a very lucky girl, curse her.)

Rey sighed and rolled onto her good side, staring into the darkness. The infirmary was empty except for her and Professor Akbar, who lay somewhere on the other side of the room. A curtain separated them, but she could hear his steady breathing and the occasional moan as he slept through whatever healing magic Nurse Nahdar had cast upon him. For her part, Rey could feel her ribs mending by the minute, but medical magic was a tricky business and required light administration followed by hourly observation to ensure things healed accordingly.

In other words, she was stuck here.

She fiddled with the edge of her sheet, thinking about how backwards the last 24 hours had been. After the spring semester, one would think she’d get a fucking _break_ for once. But ~apparently~ driving a dragon out of the Wavering Woods and blanketing the school in a protective barrier of her own fire was not enough do-goodery to warrant a year off.

No one knew what had awoken the dragon, nor why the winds had summoned it down from the Scottish Highlands to circled over the Woods. Dragons were some of magic’s most ancient and revered creatures, and to anger one was a terrible omen. This dragon had been old, and ornery, but mostly she’d been scared. As if whatever compelled her to the wood frightened as much as enticed her.

The taste of the dragon’s fire reminded Rey of her own magic. It had been…unsettling.

Nothing about the shadow or the storm or the troll felt anything like the dragon, though. This was something different, something new. Something worse—

_God, would you just sleep already?_

Rey jerked up, her eyes frantically searching the shadows of the infirmary. Akbar moaned across the room, but there was no one else.

She leaned forward though there was nothing in front of her. “Ben?”

_Even your thoughts are loud_ , He grumbled with a heavy mental sigh. _Like someone texting in all caps._

His voice was low, smooth, and so clear that if she closed her eyes, she could imagine him whispering into her ear.

“Ben, can you hear me?”

_I can’t stop hearing you, Niima._

“Bloody hell,” She breathed, unsure whether the words were spoken aloud, “This is wicked.”

_This is_ annoying _. Three times in one day—_

“Wait, when was the second time?”

_The troll. You were practically screaming at me to come find you._

“Was not,” She mumbled, this time for sure out loud.

_Whatever._ He exhaled—at least, she thought he did. _Can you just…please try to sleep, okay? It’s been a righteously awful day and I have Magical Words at 8am._

“Ben, how’d the troll get in? I can’t figure it out. After what happened with the dragon, Kanata had the barrier recast with fucking blood magic! It should be impenetrable, and trolls are strong but they’re not smart. Someone must have let it in—”

_All things the Headmistress can worry about—_

“Does the Coven know? What does Snoke say? No one ever told me what they concluded about the dragon. Do they think it’s a new offensive in the Wars—”

_Go. To. Fucking. Sleep._

“Quit being a twat! Tell me—”

Something slithered across the floor.

“Did you hear—”

_I heard it._

Rey looked around, her breath stuck in her throat and every muscle in her body pulled taught. The shadows were heavy, making it hard to discern details beyond the general shape of the room. Empty beds lined the walls behind and across from her, their white sheets blue in the darkness. Rey swallowed against the fear pressing down on her windpipe, her fingers slowly spreading across the mattress towards the nightstand, where the Skywalker saber lay.

_Don’t._

“Why?” She whispered into her thoughts.

_Just…wait. Listen._

She closed her eyes and perked her ears. It was quiet, enough to hear a pin drop—

Another rush of scales along the floor. It was moving across the room. Moving away from her…towards Akbar.

_I want you to lay back onto the bed. Slowly._

She did as he said.

_Roll to your side…now look down. What do you see?_

At first, she saw nothing. The marble floors were pale blue in the muted moonlight shining behind the curtains drawn across the windows. The empty cots obscured most of her view, but she could make out the wooden legs of Akbar’s bedframe from beneath the curtain.

From behind one of the beds, a white, scaly arm reached out, drawing up the edge of the curtain.

“Ben—”

_I see it. Don’t move._

“What is that? Fuck, it looks like—”

_Lindworm. Stay right there and don’t make a sound, do you hear me?_

The creature—some horrible cross between a snake and a worm with pale skin and spindly arms—slithered beneath the curtain, its long tail flicking at it went. Once it was on the other side, Ben was back at her ear.

_Listen to me very carefully, Niima. If that thing bites you, you’re dead. Full stop._

“But Akbar—”

_No, Rey. You go behind that curtain and one of two things is going to happen. Either the lindworm bites you, or you go off and blow half the school to smithereens._

Beyond the curtain, Rey watched the shadow of the hideous creature rear up slowly, hovering over the professor’s bed. Readying to strike.

“You can’t expect me to just sit here—”

_I absolutely expect you to._

“Ben—” This time she said it out loud.

The shadow halted, and the serpentine head turned in her direction. Ben cursed in her mind’s ear, and Rey’s hand shifted towards the saber on the nightstand.

_There’s nothing to see here!_

She shivered as the tickle of Ben’s magic pricked her skin, and for the faintest moment her hand shimmered and faded.

_There’s nothing to see here!_

The spell was weak, the distance between them too much for even Ben’s magic to take full effect. The lindworm moved to the curtain.

_Niima, fuck. I need…_

“I know.”

Closing her eyes, she reached out across the bond and gave a push.

_There’s nothing to see here!_

Rey faded into invisibility moments before the lindworm slithered back out beneath the curtain.

God, it was an ugly thing. Smaller than a basilisk but bigger than an anaconda, its body was at once scaly and soft, ribbed like a worm’s and pinkish white. Its eyes were beady and milky, as if partially blind, and while its head was serpentine, its mouth was oddly narrow, a sucking tube filled with row upon row of sharp teeth. It hissed slightly, rearing up and looking about the room.

Rey held her breath and kept pushing her magic into the void connecting her to Ben.

_That’s it…good girl…_

She had no time to roll her eyes at the patronizing endearment, too busy screaming internally as the lindworm slithered forward, sniffing at the air. Fuck, could invisibility spells obscure smell? What if it—

Akbar gave a low moan on the other side of the curtain, and the worm turned back to him. Its tail flicked up the edge of the cloth. Rey’s eyes shot to the saber.

_DO NOT MOVE REY._

The lindworm slunk back behind the curtain, and Rey’s hands came over her mouth.

“Oh, God,” She cried out silently into the space between them, “Ben, what—”

_Stay still. Do not move a_ single fucking finger _until I say so, alright? Not one._

“It’s going to kill him, Ben. We have to do something—”

_You wait, Niima. You wait for me…_

It all happened quickly then, in short succession:

The lindworm reared up, and Ben shouted _Now!_

The lindworm’s sucking mouth spread wide, and Rey reached for the saber.

The lindworm struck, and Ben came sprinting through the infirmary doors.

“Bite the bullet!”

A crack like a gun firing pierced the air—and the curtain—followed by the lindworm’s metallic shriek. Rey tore off the covers, the Skywalker saber already glowing bright, and flew from her bed. The horrible worm flailed, crashing through the curtain to fall at her feet.

With a hoarse cry, Rey brought the blade down on its wriggling neck, cutting the head clean off.

“You bastard!” She screamed, raising the blade again, but then Ben was slamming into her, tackling her to the floor.

“Don’t! The blood is poisonous.”

He pushed them across the cold marble, away from the puddle of blueish grey blood growing beneath the still, white body coiled up on the ground. Ben was panting in her ear, his heart beating wildly against her back where he held her to him, and then Rey was struggling to get free of his arms.

“Akbar, Ben! We have to—”

“Niima, enough. He’s gone. Look…”

She blinked against the tears blurring her eyes and looked over at the professor’s bed, the curtain no longer blocking it from view.

The professor lay on the floor beside the cot…his neck a mottled mess of torn flesh.

“No,” She whined, trembling in Ben’s grasp.

Rey could hear voices coming closer, shouting indistinctly. Nurse Nahdar ran in first, with Professor Holdo and Professor Tano close behind. Someone said something to Ben, but she didn’t catch his response. Her ears were filled with a dull ringing, her whole body shaking. No, rocking.

Ben was rocking her as she sobbed.

Somebody came to crouch beside them, but when their hand landed on Rey’s shoulder she flinched so violently that Ben gave a terse ‘don’t’ and the hand pulled away. His lips moved at her ear, but she couldn’t hear him. Her eyes were glued to Akbar, to the blood spilling from his throat and the blank stare of death clouding his eyes.

“Shh,” Ben’s lips tickled her temple, his rocking deep and slow, “It’s over, love. It’s over.”

She began to hyperventilate, and his arms tightened around her.

_Now it's time to say good night,_

_Good night, sleep tight._

_Now the sun turns out his light,_

_Good night, sleep tight._

Ben’s voice was deep and rich, the magic weaving around her like a warm blanket. It pressed down on her shoulders, stilling the tremors racking her frame and evening out her staccato breaths. She slumped in his arms, her lids drooping.

It’s not over, Ben. It’s just beginning.

That was her last thought before the darkness of sleep consumed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your thoughts in the comments below!
> 
> P.S. The next few chapters are gonna be in Ben's POV...and I'm 🙊


	4. Kill the Director, or How to Avoid All of Your Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO BEAUTIFUL HUMANS ❤️
> 
> So – this was stupid fun to write. I love being in Ben's head! If y'all thought last chapter was a lot of suppressed feels...
> 
> Chapter song: Kill the Director, by the Wombats

**4**

**Kill the Director, or How to Avoid All of Your Problems**

Benjamin Organa-Solo had three problems.

Scratch that: he had four problems, the most pressing of which was the small-as-shit auditorium seat he was currently folded into. He shifted slightly, adjusting his legs so that his shins didn’t dig into the back of the seat in front of him. Down on the stage, Headmistress Kanata was addressing the student body convened before her.

“We gather here today to remember Professor Gial Ackbar, a beloved mentor, teacher, colleague, and friend. He served as Kenobi’s Alchemy Department Chair for twenty-five years, and was a fundamental member of our campus community. While he was taken from us far too soon, we will honor his memory and his sacrifice, today and every day. It is my humble privilege to announce that Alderaan auditorium, in which we are currently assembled, will be renamed in his honor.”

Applause rang out, and a few people around Ben sniffed and wiped at their cheeks. Ben adjusted his legs again.

Benjamin Organa-Solo had three problems (excluding the chair).

The first problem was the date. As they came into the beginning of September, the moon was shifting out of first quarter and entering the waxing gibbous phase. Which meant Ben was starting to feel very…uncomfortable. Even now, sitting in his cramped seat with other people’s shoulders and thighs pressing him in on both sides, he had to clench his fists so hard his nails dug painfully into his palms. The growl sat low in his throat, his muscles tense and the hairs on his forearms standing on end.

The second problem was his girlfriend. Bazine wasn’t speaking to him.

(Was this a problem though? Perhaps the _real_ issue with Baz ignoring him was how long it had taken Ben to notice, and how little it actually upset him.)

The third problem—the _constant problem_ —was sitting two rows down and doing everything in her power to get his attention.

_Ben._

_Ben._

_BEN._

Her voice rang out like an alarm bell in his thoughts. No, a bullhorn. He could have sworn she was holding one at his ear and shouting into it. He ignored her.

Ben’s skin had begun to sting and prick, another consequence of his first problem. As the full moon approached, everything began to feel tight and hot, until he was all but crawling out of himself. It was one of the many side-effects that came with the transformation. Or rather, with his inability to fully complete one.

“It’s better this way, Benjamin,” His godfather had assured him on many occasions, “Would you _really_ want to become a mindless beast?”

Of course he wouldn’t. Who in their right mind would ever _choose_ to be a werewolf? But Ben would be lying if he said this half-way existence he inhabited was all that preferrable.

They’d done everything they could for him. The day he was bitten, Snoke and his uncle Luke had cast healing spell after healing spell over him. For a year, he’d stayed with his godfather, undergoing various magical treatments in the hopes of completely reversing his condition. And it had worked…somewhat. He’d never gone full wolf. He’d always kept a modicum of control, a touch of clarity beneath the bloodlust and rage that consumed him. He didn’t break out into a hairy mess with fangs and claws and spittle dribbling from his mouth. Indeed, little about his physical aspect changed at all—at least, what could be seen on the outside.

But every month, when the moon was high, his body became a cage. One he would give _anything_ to break free from.

_Ben._

_BEN!_

He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes forward.

“As you all know, last week the school’s defenses were compromised, allowing for two magical creatures of unknown origins to enter campus. Professor Ackbar fought valiantly to protect us all from the attack, giving his life to ensure our safety. It is a debt we will never be able to repay.”

It didn’t surprise Ben that Kanata omitted their names from her speech. The fact that the school had been breached was enough bad press; no one wanted to hear that two students were involved in slaying the intruders (even if they were the Skywalker Heir and the Chosen One).

Not that everyone didn’t already know what had happened. If Ben thought people worshipped him before…now it was almost embarrassing walking down the halls. Not for him, of course. He felt bad for all his peers who couldn’t keep their mouths from hanging open in awe whenever he passed by.

_BENBENBENBENBENBEN—_

Movement to his right caught Ben’s eye. He glanced sideways and frowned at Rose Tico, who was waving an anxious hand at him. She mouthed something he couldn’t understand, tilting her head sideways. Ben followed to where she was pointing, and he rolled his eyes when they clashed with Niima’s. She practically came out of her seat, shouting into his head when he looked away.

It was a mistake. As soon as he diverted his gaze, he was making eye contact with Bazine, who was glaring daggers at him. She cast a glance at Niima, then looked back at Ben with a delicate blonde brow arched so high it all but disappeared beneath her bangs. He shifted in his seat, tugging slightly at the collar of his sweater.

_I SWEAR TO MAGIC BEN—_

“Pst! Solo!”

Ben turned to his right. A few paces down, Poe Dameron was waving at him. He suppressed a sneer, his expression flat.

“What, Dameron.” He whispered tersely.

Poe nodded at the rows below. “I think Rey is trying to get your attention.”

You don’t fucking say.

“In light of recent events, the Coven had convened a special counsel to determine the origin of these attacks, and an elite force of mages has been dispatched to patrol the perimeter of campus at all hours. Rest assured, the highest authorities are working to track down the perpetrators of this heinous crime and bring justice to Professor Ackbar.”

Anxious murmurs rang out in the crowd. Ben checked his watch, ready to be done with the meeting. None of this was new information to him.

_BEN!_

“And now, the Kenobi mixed choir would like to sing a memorial piece in honor of the late professor.”

Ben sunk further in his seat, suppressing a groan.

Benjamin Organa-Solo had three problems, and it didn’t look like he’d be solving any of them soon.

*****

“Ben! Wait!”

The voice coming up behind him wasn’t Rey’s, but Bazine’s.

Ben turned, parting the wave of students filing past as everyone exited the auditorium. Bazine came to stand in front of him, her arms folded across her ample chest.

“Bazine.”

She sniffed, pouting prettily. “Are we not going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” He turned and began to walk down the hall. Bazine followed.

“Oh, don’t give me that! You know damn well what I’m referring to.”

“I told you,” He paused, letting a first-year scurry past him before resuming his stride, “I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. I just didn’t see the point in telling you about it.”

“How can you _not_ see the point in telling me? You almost got killed—twice!”

“Emphasis on _almost_. I’m alive, that’s all that should matter.”

“Is it because of Niima?”

He stopped then and turned back to her. “What? Why would—”

“BEN SOLO!”

Bazine’s eyes narrowed, her jaw bunching lightly. Ben cursed and ran a tired hand down his face. Everyone in the crowded hallway startled, all heads turning to Rey Niima as she came barreling out of the auditorium.

For such a skinny thing, Niima moved like a tornado, havoc and confusion forever following in her path. Ben thought it might be her magic. It clung to her like an aura, swelling out in waves whenever she was agitated. He swore someone flinched as she rushed by, rebounding off the invisible forcefield wrapping around her. Even now, he could see the way it trembled, making her blur at the edges as if she were a walking heat wave.

“Baz, can we please talk about this later—”

“Whatever. Have fun with your side piece, Ben.”

With a dramatic flip of golden hair, Bazine turned on her heels and stormed off. She recoiled slightly as Rey hurried by, that wave of magic passing over her.

And then Rey Niima was standing before him, vibrating the way she always did.

“Ben.”

“Niima.”

“We need to talk.”

“We are talking.”

“You – _ugh,_ stop. You know what I mean.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

Rey scrunched her nose, then shook her head and waved her hands like a fucking cartoon character. “Enough! Just…can we go somewhere? Private? It’s important.”

Ben could feel everyone watching, listening. He knew this whole conversation, from Bazine to Niima and everything in between, would be picked apart into tiny pieces over supper tonight in the dining hall. He knew what it looked and sounded like, and that word of him and Niima sneaking off somewhere ‘private’ would get back to his girlfriend.

He also knew he was approximately .5 seconds away from punching a hole in the stone wall and tearing his shirt off. With a tight growl, he grabbed Niima’s wrist and yanked her down the hall.

A few students had already gathered in the Felucia library, but it only took one sharp glance from Ben to get them packing up their things and shuffling out. Ben dragged Rey between a row of bookshelves at the back of the room, all but throwing her against them.

“You’ve got five minutes.”

Niima huffed, rubbing her wrist between thumb and forefinger. She was dressed in the same ugly checkered sweater and khakis that she’d worn almost every day for the past four years, ever since they graduated to upper classes and got to stop wearing those _awful_ vests and boater hats. The hem of one pant leg was rolled up slightly higher than the other, revealing a strip of tan ankle with two moles on the inner part. Her shoes were scuffed, and she had a stain on the edge of her right sleeve. Her plain brown hair was pulled back in a loose low ponytail, the little bits at her temples curling despite the rest of her hair being straight.

She glared at him, her dark eyes backlit with flames. It was always heat and fire with her.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Four minutes, thirty seconds. The clock is ticking, Niima.”

“My _god_ , you’re such a—” Her eyes swept heavenward, and she exhaled heavily through her nose. “I have a proposition.”

Ben blamed his next thought on the word proposition. Really, she couldn’t have picked something a bit less…suggestive? Because for a moment—half a second, tops—Ben imagined her looking up at him from beneath her lashes and licking her pink bottom lip.

_I think you should bend me over that book cart right there and make me scream._

It was the fucking waxing moon. It was the moon that made him like this.

“Get on with it, Niima.”

“Just…okay, promise me you will hear me out, yeah? Give what I’m about to say full consideration—”

_—wrap this ponytail around your wrist and tug it._

“—know it’s been a lot the past week, and I’m not your favorite person by…like, a longshot—”

— _kick my legs apart and drag these ugly khakis down._

“—but I think it’s best if we put things aside for now and explore this, this _thing_ between us—”

“What thing?” He snapped, mentally shaking away the images of her back arching, her hands white-knuckling the edge of the book cart. Niima was looking up at him with a flush high in her cheeks. Ben swallowed thickly.

“This whole dyad business. I think…I feel like maybe it’s behind the whole magic _pushing_ thing.”

The dyad business. Right.

It had come to light fourth year, the year Rey and Ben had every class together. For the most part, they’d managed to stay on opposite sides of the classroom and avoid each other during group work, but Professor Oola made them partners for their unit on Oracle Bones in their Methods of Mysticism seminar. Their first assignment was to go out and find an animal known for its powers of divination—then kill it and extract its shoulder blade. Rey had no problem procuring a bone (she was frighteningly good at things like that). For his part, Ben had managed to find a tortoise shell discarded on the banks of the moat.

Once their bones were collected, Professor Oola had placed them in a small kiln until they cracked, and from there Rey and Ben had been tasked with deciphering each other’s fortunes. Everything was going fine until Oola got involved.

“Oh, my stars, I’ve…I’ve never seen anything like it!”

She’d called in the Headmistress then, as well as several other professors including Ahsoka Tano, Kenobi’s leading magical historian.

“Quite rare indeed,” Tano had hummed, running a finger across the cracks in Ben’s tortoiseshell, “It’s been centuries since we last saw such a thing.”

“What?” Niima had pressed closer, her shoulder digging into Ben’s arm, “What is it?”

“They call it a dyad, a magical attunement between two magicians. Your magic is highly compatible.”

Niima’s eyes had blown wide. “Really?”

She’d turned to Ben then, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. Inside, he’d been a panicky mess, a million thoughts running through his head. Was this the reason then? Was this why she made him feel so, so…

“I think,” Niima continued, pulling Ben from his thoughts, “That maybe the reason I can give you my magic is because we’ve got the whole ‘attunement’ thing going. Because I tried doing it to Finn the other day, and all I did was burn his palms.”

A growl rumbled deep in Ben’s chest before he could tamp it down, but it was low enough that Rey didn’t hear it. God, was he really _jealous_ of Finn? He was gay, for fuck’s sake.

“Anyways, I was thinking…what with the school on lockdown and the perpetrator still on the loose, we might…that is, we could—”

Her magic flared then. It always ebbed and flowed in time with her whirlwind emotions. Standing close to Rey Niima was like sitting by an open fire. It was always warm, but every now and then something deep within would pop and crack, and sparks would fly outward, the heat of them liable to burn.

Ben was _burning_.

He cleared his throat. “The Coven has sent a whole squadron of mages trained in magical defense. They’re patrolling the perimeter as we speak. I fail to see what help we could possibly offer them.”

“But what about the shadow? What if it comes back? You know it’s got something to do with what’s going on—”

“Let Kanata and the Coven deal with it. You have told her about it, right?”

Niima bit her lip, and Ben’s nostrils flared.

“Christ, why haven’t you told her yet?”

“Because it’s not going to help! It’s not like you can just catch a shadow, and besides. It’s following _me._ I’m the one who led it here, and I think I’m the one who has to deal with it. And…I’m asking you to help me.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? It _murdered_ Ackbar, what if—”

“No. Why should I help you? You’ve nearly gotten me killed twice already, and we’ve only been back at school for a week. Never mind all the other times I’ve narrowly escaped death because you’re a walking, talking danger magnet—”

“ _Please,_ Ben,” Her hands came down on his arms then, her touch scalding him through his shirt, “I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think it was important. And it is. I can feel it.”

He could feel it, too. Could feel it everywhere, all the time, awake and asleep. She never gave him a moment’s rest. Even now, as he inhaled deeply to calm the storm raging inside, her smell of honey and sandalwood filled his lungs, and it took everything in him not to roll his eyes closed.

He pulled away.

“No.”

“Ben—”

“Five minutes is up,” He growled, turning on his heel. He stalked down the row of shelves, ignoring the way she called after him.

It didn’t matter, though. What he said, what he did. None of it would make a difference.

The shadow would return, and chaos would follow.

Niima would run head-on into whatever mess awaited, and he would go after her.

The moon would rise again, and he would lose another piece of himself to this mindless rage and need.

*****

Benjamin Organa-Solo had three problems…and he wasn’t dealing with _any_ of them tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: I threw my back out (Zoom life) so it'll probably be a few days before I can get the next chapter out! Please bear with me! Y'all know I like to stay on top of my updates so I'll do my best not to take too long :)
> 
> Your thoughts in the comments below!


	5. Golden Years, or How To Avoid All of Your Problems (Continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the well wishes regarding my broken body! Is my back better? Not really. Did I write a new chapter anyways? Fuck yes I did.
> 
> She's 26 going on 96 🤘 But the party don't stop!
> 
> Alternative titles for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Sad Boy is Sad  
> 2\. Horny and Afraid: The Trials and Tribulations of Benjamin Organa-Solo
> 
> Chapter song: Golden Years, by David Bowie

**5**

**Golden Years, or How To Avoid All of Your Problems (Continued)**

Ben was eight years old when he realized he was broken.

It started on a Sunday afternoon in November, the week before his birthday. He was staying in England, as he always did during the fall. He knew it pained his father to have him an ocean away each year, but after his mother’s death, everyone agreed it was best that Ben spent time in the care of those most equipped to manage his…condition.

They were walking down the street, him and his godfather. Cornelius Snoke was a formidable man, tall and drawn but with a steely gaze that could bring grown men to cower. His will was a palpable thing, visible in the hard cut of his jaw, in the bitter curl of his lip. Ben had always looked upon his godfather with a mix of awe and fear, which he would later come to understand was exactly how Cornelius Snoke wanted others to see him. In time, Ben would learn to cultivate that same effect for himself.

His godfather was taking him to the park, which was an exceedingly rare treat for Ben. Few and far between were the moments that Cornelius spent with Ben outside of supervising his treatment or observing his lessons with the tutors he employed. Ben knew it was common for the Old Families to start their children’s magical training early, but Cornelius seemed particularly concerned with Ben’s progress and development as a magician. Ben thought it might be his condition; he’d overheard a conversation once between his godfather and his elocution tutor.

“Have you found that his…affliction impacts his abilities?”

“Not at all, sir. The young master Solo is an excellent pupil. He will do very well at Kenobi.”

Perhaps it was the giddiness of the moment—he was going to the park, _and_ with his godfather—that made Ben reckless in his excitement. He should have known better; Cornelius disapproved of excessive emotional displays. But when they passed the store on their way down the street, Ben couldn’t help but run to the window and marvel at the display.

A model train track, perfectly assembled with a miniature station and electric train running the loop at a clip. It was just like the actual model he’d seen at the museum his father had taken him to that summer. Black and red and sleek as hell. He stepped closer, eyes wide.

“Whoa! Look at it!”

Ben startled when another boy—ruddy-cheeked and slightly chubby—ran up beside him and pressed his hands to the window. Ben’s first reaction was to grimace; Cornelius always told him to keep his hands off glass lest he smudge it. But the boy’s eyes had been bright, his smile unguarded and sincere, and Ben felt his own lips tugging upwards in answer.

“Wicked, yeah?” The boy turned that wide smile on Ben. He gave a soft nod and looked back at the model.

“Yes, it’s—”

A firm hand came down hard on Ben’s shoulder, yanking him backwards. He looked up to find his godfather glaring menacingly—not at him, but at the other boy.

“Come, Benjamin.”

Cornelius all but dragged him down the street. Ben struggled to keep up with his long strides, though he did not dare run. Running was not allowed. He looked up at his godfather, his cheeks pink with shame for…well, he didn’t know what for. But he knew he had done wrong.

“I’m sorry…” His voice was thin as paper.

They rounded a corner, and Cornelius pulled them to a stop, turning those cool eyes on Ben. “Did you like that train, Benjamin?”

Ben hesitated, unsure if it was safe to confess the truth. Finally, he gave a timid nod.

“Did you enjoy watching it run round the track? Was that it?”

Another guilty nod.

“I want you to mind my next words carefully, Benjamin.”

Ben straightened and folded his hands behind his back, doing his best to keep his head held high. He nodded stiffly.

“That Normal boy is like the toy train. Running in an endless loop on his tiny track. Passing the same station over and over and over again. A happy fool who sees a model train set and calls it magic. But he will never know _real_ magic. Its power and potential. He has neither.”

He stepped closer then, looking down his nose at Ben.

“But you? You have both in abundance. You are the Skywalker Heir, Benjamin. Even among Magicians, you are a cut above. You will do well to remember that.”

They didn’t go to the park after that. Instead, Cornelius brought Ben back to the manor, where his tutors awaited.

A month later, Ben returned to California to spend Christmas with his father. Holidays were always difficult, so Han made a point to decorate their seaside bungalow with elaborate and excessive ornaments. Normally, Ben loved spending Christmas with his father. But that year, he had a hard time looking at his dad without thinking of his godfather’s words.

_He will never know real magic. Its power, its potential._

_He has neither._

And then Christmas morning came, and Han gave Ben his present.

“I know it’s been a few months since you were home, but you seemed to enjoy the displays at the museum…”

Ben tore off the wrapping paper and stared at the box.

A model train set.

When he didn’t say anything, his dad scratched nervously at his cheek and gave a rueful chuckle. “I take if we’re out of the train phase?”

“What? No…it’s great, dad. Thank you.”

That night, after his father put him to bed, Ben lay awake, staring at the star lights twinkling against his ceiling. They were from last Christmas, when he’d been obsessed with all things outer space. He rolled over, squinting in the dark at the box with the train set where it sat at the foot of his shelf with his other toys. Something hot and bitter sat at the base of his throat, burning down into his chest.

He tore off his blanket.

Stalked over to the shelf.

Picked up the box and twisted its corners violently in his hands before throwing it across the room. It hit the wall, the contents crackling inside in a way that suggested something had broken. And then he was throwing everything. Anything he could get his hands on. The books on the shelves. The soccer ball by his closet. His Rubik’s cube and jar of marbles and a piggy bank shaped like Saturn.

When his room was thoroughly destroyed, Ben sank to his butt and pressed his head between his knees, the way the doctor had shown him. He gripped his ankles tightly and knocked his knees against his temples, rocking slightly as the tremors of his rage settled into soft sobs.

Slowly, the haze of red calmed and cleared, and that’s when he heard it—a soft sound, muted and airy, like a whistle. He peered through his bangs, his head still between his legs. His eyes found the train set across the room, the edges of the box crumpled and torn where he’d ripped at it. A little red light was winking at him from behind a hole in the cardboard.

Sniffing pitifully, he crawled across the room to the box and tore it further open. He pulled the train out.

Its wheels were missing—no doubt they had snapped off—but the red headlight was blinking in time with the whistle of the horn. Ben settled back onto the carpet, shifting onto his side and setting the train upright in front of him. Whimpering softly, he rolled the train across the carpet.

No track.

No wheels.

He felt like the train. Broken, and missing certain parts. Like courage and a mother and a manual for how to assemble a boy that was part mage, part beast, part Normal…

_A happy fool who sees a model train set and calls it magic._

He stayed on the floor, pushing that stupid train back and forth until exhaustion claimed him.

*****

Rey hounded Ben for three days.

On the first day, she saddled up next to him in the breakfast line. While he scooped scrambled eggs onto his plate, she piled her tray high with bacon and rosemary potatoes and croissants and a cheese danish. Where she put all that food was beyond him.

“Ben, about my proposition—”

“No.”

Later that afternoon, while he was coming out of Advanced Elocution, she was waiting for him at the door.

“Ben, if you would just consider the—”

“No.”

On the second day, she tried cornering Ben in the hallway outside of his seminar on Internet Vernacular—a rapidly-growing subfield of Magical Words—because it was in the same building as her Advanced Magical Weapons class (nothing said ‘Niima’ like battle axes and mystical shields).

“Ben, I won’t take no for answer!—”

“No.”

By the third day, he gave up responding altogether and just hauled ass in the opposite direction whenever he caught sight of her dumb sweater or smelled honey on the air.

Sleeping was the hardest part. Ben woke up before dawn and waited until well after midnight before he crept up the stairs leading to their room at the top of the turret. It left him utterly destroyed by day 3, but at least Niima couldn’t bother Ben when she was unconscious.

Sharing a room with Rey Niima had been always hell, for so many reasons Ben had long stopped contemplating them and just _endured_ it _._ There were aspects of the arrangement that simply could not be helped.

Her smell, all over his bed and clothes and towel.

Her constant puttering and mumbling and humming.

Her little socks littering the floor (on her side of the tape, but still).

Her boring cotton sports bras hanging on the handle of her wardrobe that should _not_ have made his heart race.

Her huffs and puffs she made while sleeping. They were decidedly not cute or sexy or enticing in any way; just a lot of grumbling and arguing with herself. He’d spent hours listening to her laying into whoever it was on the other side of her dreams, willing his filthy brain to stop turning her mumbled expletives into something erotic rather than argumentative.

What _was_ under Ben’s control—the time he spent in their room, and what he did when he was there—meant that he never lingered in their shared space beyond sleeping, bathing, and writing the occasional essay at his desk when Niima was out.

The bathroom was a whole dilemma.

They had long taken to alternate bathing schedules, but that didn’t keep her from invading the space with her things, which meant Ben could never use their en suite without having to remove her towel from the shower door or stare at her toothbrush and deodorant and little bag of hair ties on her side of the sink. Fine brown hairs streaked the tiles lining the shower, and her shampoo sat next to his in the metal caddie hanging from the showerhead. He knew where she kept her tampons and her chapstick (second draw) and what brand of body lotion she used (Aveeno, unscented). He often had to sidestep a pile of nightclothes—with a pair of underwear crumpled on top like a fucking cherry—when she forgot to pick them up after her shower the night before.

The bathroom was a _serious fucking_ _dilemma_.

By the time the third day rolled into night, Ben was well and truly decimated. Not only had he slept a total of nine hours in three days, but the full moon was less than a week out, which meant his nerves were past the point of frayed. He felt like someone had taken each of his fingers and shoved them into separate electrical sockets. He was surprised his hair wasn’t standing on end with how much he’d run his fingers through it.

This was what she did to him. She was _always_ doing this to him.

Bazine still wasn’t talking to Ben, but she was talking to Hux. His friend found him outside on the green that night as Ben made his way from football practice to Mummers House.

“You’ve got some serious groveling to do, my friend.”

“She’ll get over it,” He grumbled, ever muscle in his body screaming. He’d laid out a few teammates on the field this afternoon, the aggression mounting at a disconcerting speed. He should have told their coach he was sick; he’d really been in no state to play. But running up and down the field kicking a ball as hard as he could usually helped to release some of the tension roiling through him around this time. Maybe if he wasn’t so mind-numbingly tired, it would have helped. As it were, now he just felt angry _and_ wrecked.

“I dunno, mate. She seemed pretty bent out of shape. Can’t say I blame her, really—”

“Whatever you have to say, say it. Whatever _she_ told you to say.”

“She hasn’t told me to say anything that I wasn’t already thinking, Ben.”

He rounded on Hux. “If you’re waiting for an invitation to gossip, this is me, giving you one.”

“Look, the whole school is talking about you and Niima. You two have been at each other’s throats for literal years, but lately…”

Hux shrugged, scratching at his collar, and Ben was seconds away from punching him in the face. Three, two—

“If you _were_ fooling around with Niima, you know you could tell me. It’s proper fucked of you to cheat on Bazine, but I wouldn’t say—”

“Two things, Hux. First, you would tell Baz in a heartbeat because you love the fucking drama. Second, I’d sooner perform my own frontal lobotomy with a plastic spoon than lay a finger on Rey Niima.”

Hux held up his hands and tucked his chin, taking a step back to put space between them. Ben hadn’t even realized he’d pressed up against the other man.

“Whatever you say, mate. Just…thought I’d warn you.”

Hux turned tail then, heading off towards his dorm in Yavin Hall at the other end of the campus. Ben ran a quick hand through his hair—again—and resumed course.

The sun had long set, but it was early evening, which all but guaranteed Rey would still be awake when he got back to their room. Ben couldn’t be bothered to worry about that, though, or anything else for that matter. He wasn’t worried about the very real possibility that his girlfriend of five years was going to break up with him. He wasn’t worried that his roommate of eight was likely to blame (add it to the list of ways she made his life miserable). He wasn’t worried that, at any moment, some malevolent shadow might slip from behind a building and summon some terrible creature down upon him. He wasn’t even worried about the fat moon rising in the sky, not quite full but well on its way to it.

Ben just wanted to sleep.

*****

Her found Niima in their room, which was what he’d expected. What Ben had _not_ anticipated was how he would find her.

Folding her laundry. With her headphones on.

Dancing.

In nothing but a baggy Kenobi Lacrosse t-shirt and white boy shorts.

The fact that Niima wore actual underwear as opposed to flimsy scraps of silk should not have done things to Ben’s pulse. And it didn’t.

It was the fact that her legs were bare that had him lurching to a halt in the threshold of their door.

Rey Niima was, by all accounts, average. Her face was pleasant enough, if not a bit androgynous. Her jaw was square, her teeth a bit too big for her mouth, and she had a smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were an unremarkable shade of brown. She was flat-chested and sharp-shouldered.

But her legs.

Her _legs._

Strong and toned and perfectly curved. It wasn’t even an opinion. They were, objectively, _fucking fantastic_. Even now, staring at the back of her as she shuffled and bobbed to the music blaring out of her hideous headphones, Ben had the overwhelming urge to get down on his knees and palm the swell of her calves, to see if they were as soft and firm as they looked. To wrap his hands around her tan ankles and—

Rey jumped and did a weird shimmy. That’s when he registered the music.

“ _There’s my baby, lost that’s all. Once, I’m begging you, save her little souuuul!”_

Niima’s voice was awful, her dancing worse, and her choice in music abhorrent. She was like Peter Quill if he’d been a magician instead of an interplanetary policeman.

She whirled around then, raising a sock bundle like a microphone, but her singing turned to shouting when she realized he was watching.

“Bloody hell!” She yanked her headphones down and stumbled on _nothing,_ dropping the socks to catch herself on the edge of her bed. “Christ, you scared me.”

Ben just stood there, glaring to keep from ogling. Rey laughed nervously, one hand going to her throat where her pulse thrummed there. He could see it. Fuck, he swore he could _smell it_ —

“Evening, dark prince.”

“Star-Lord.”

Rey did the nose-scrunching thing. “Huh?”

Ben rolled his eyes (so he wouldn’t sweep them down her body) and made for his bed.

He could feel Niima watching him as he shucked his bag from his shoulder, setting it near his desk at the foot of his bed. He kicked off his cleats and yanked his sweater over his head. She kept staring.

“Ben…”

He moved to his wardrobe, pulling out a t-shirt and sleep pants. He made for the bathroom. And _goddamn her_ , Rey followed.

“Can we please talk?”

“Nothing to talk about, Niima.”

“Fuck off, if you would just _listen_ —”

“Telling someone to fuck off is not exactly the conversation opener you think it is.”

“Ben, whatever let in those creatures is still out there! The shadow—”

He tried to close the door behind him, but she wormed her way inside because of _course_ she did. Exhaling heavily, he tugged at the tie holding back his hair and tossed it on the counter, shaking out the sweaty tangle.

“First, we don’t even know if it was the shadow that caused the attacks, but _whatever_ it was is being handled by a team of trained professionals.”

“And a fat load of good they’re doing!” She threw her arms up, “Haven’t come across a single one of them on campus.”

“Their orders are to keep a low profile.”

“I saw the shadow this morning.”

He whirled on her then. “What?”

She planted her hands on her hips, chest puffed out. “Yup. While I was on my way to class. It was just standing out on the green, by the fountain in broad daylight. Disappeared as soon as I saw it, of course, but you would think these ‘professionals’ might have at least shown their faces, gone after it, _something_.”

“Were any other students around?”

“Not that I saw. Classes had already started, I was running late,” She shifted on her feet, rubbing her legs together, “I feel like…I think it might have been waiting for me.”

“And after? What happened once it disappeared?”

“Nothing this time. I was on code red for the rest of the day, though. Kept thinking everyone who came around the corner was going to be a goblin or harpy or something. Almost punched Lourdes Tekka in the face outside Professor Tano’s class…”

Ben dragged both hands down his face; his fingers were trembling.

“What do you even want to _do,_ Niima? It’s not like we’ll be any better at catching a shadow.”

“Maybe we will! I mean, it seems we are the only ones who can _see it_. And now we know the signs. See the shadow, slay the beast. Next time it pops up, we’ll be ready.”

“So that’s your grand plan? Just go around chopping down magical creatures until…what? It gets bored of the game? We don’t even know what it is. What it _wants_.”

“But maybe we could find out! Follow it, or…look, I’ve got as many questions about all of this as you have. Don’t you want some answers? And I’m _not_ talking about whatever load of shite the Coven’s come up with—”

“You’ve got some nerve talking like that to the Skywalker Heir.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks pinkened lightly. “My apologies, your Majesty.”

Rey leaned back against the wall, and the movement pulled up the hem of her shirt until it was just barely covering the apex of her legs. Ben couldn’t help it—his eyes passed briefly over the newly exposed skin.

Fuck. He wanted to bite the tops of her thighs. He wanted…

“Ben, I know we’ve had our differences over the years—”

“A gross understatement.”

“—But even you can’t deny that, magically speaking, we work very well together…”

She looked at him hard then, her eyes searching his face in a way that made him want to turn away. He wouldn’t though; he was better than that.

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“My magic. When I give it to you, what’s it feel like?”

Now he _had_ to look away. He turned to the shower and flipped the water on just to do something.

How was he supposed to answer that question?

“It feels like…”

Fire.

Molten.

Bright and hot and honeyed. He felt like he could cast a lullaby that would put the whole world to sleep.

“…I’m being zapped. Like you shocked me.”

Her shoulders drooped slightly. “Oh. Is...that a good thing?”

“I’m not sure ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are proper terms for it. But the effect is obviously useful.” 

She turned, leaning just one shoulder against the wall. It made the shirt ride higher, and Ben had to avoid her reflection in the mirror because _oh my god—_

“So, you agree. We would make a good team.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“Fucking hell, do you really hate me that much?”

He caught her eye in the mirror. He shouldn’t have. Her jaw might have been hard, her chin thrust forward indignantly, but the hurt was there in her eyes.

He gripped the edge of the sink, tipped his head back, and sighed.

Did he hate her? Yes.

He hated what she did to him. How deeply she burrowed beneath his skin. His thoughts. He hated the things she made him wish for, like change and better and more, more, _more_. Hated how much he _didn’t_ hate her, because lord knew it would make things so much simpler if he did.

Rey came up behind him, arms folded tight across her chest. She knocked his arm sharply with her shoulder.

“It’ll be back, Ben. This isn’t over.”

She stalked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Ben let his head fall forward, the air rushing from his lungs on a heavy gust. Even now, her scent lingered, mixing with the steam coming from the running shower. It stuck to his skin, sticky and humid and utterly maddening. It smelled the way her magic felt.

With a growl, he tore off his sweaty clothes and stepped under the spray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some important questions:
> 
> 1\. How smutty are y'all trying to have this fic be? Because next chapter is about to do a hard pivot...
> 
> 2\. Do we like the vignettes/flashbacks? If so, what other things would we like to see? I have a billion ideas but I wanna hear from you!
> 
> Your thoughts in the comments below!


	6. Come Closer, or How to Deal with a Grindylow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The results are in and smut is on the menu, heauxs! Consider this our official decent into debauchery 😈
> 
> Chapter Song: Come Closer, by Miles Kane

**6**

**Come Closer, or How to Deal with a Grindylow**

“Did you hear about Ben and Bazine, what happened in the dining hall?”

Rey slid the book—“Dwarves: A Compendium”—onto the shelf, then grabbed the next one in the cart, frowning at the title. Christ, was this really an anthology about _wendigos?_ —

“I wasn’t there, but Niall from Independent Study told me it was pretty epic. Apparently, Bazine was like, ‘I think we should see other people’ and Ben was like ‘okay’ and then Bazine got mad and said ‘Are you serious? That was a test, I was joking’ and then Ben goes ‘Joke’s on you, then’ and Bazine threw her salad in his face—”

“Ms. Tico!” Ms. Posibelf hissed from her desk at the end of the aisle, “Please, try to keep your voice down. This is a library.”

Rose blushed and gave a tight nod, turning back to Rey with her lips rolled in. Her shoulders trembled with silent laughter, and Rey grinned.

Beyond the bookshelves, students sat at tables or in highbacked armchairs, pretending to study. But Rey could hear people whispering, could feel the occasional glance her way.

Yes, she’d heard about Ben and Bazine’s epic breakup in the dining hall yesterday. People hadn’t stopped staring at her since.

_“Fuck you, Ben! I hope you and that gutter rat are happy!”_

Not the worst thing Rey had been called, honestly.

The fact that people actually thought she and Ben were anything more than begrudging roommates was laughable. Like, when Finn told her about it in Distillations, she’d actually laughed – no, cackled. She’d had a snorting fit, with tears rolling down her cheeks, and Professor Valorum had her step outside of class until she’d collected herself.

But it didn’t matter how ludicrous the notion was; what people cared about was the _drama._ The whole school was buzzing with it. She hadn’t heard her name whispered this much since fifth year, when she rode the sea snake that lived in Nymeve Lake east of the Wavering Woods (it was a dare, and wicked fun). Even now, she could feel several third years looking at her from their cluster of beanbags in the far corner. She had to bite back the urge to make faces at them.

“Anyways,” Rose whispered, not all that quieter, “I guess it was a whole thing. I’m right pissed I missed it.”

“Uh huh,” Rey nodded absently, slipping the next book into its place.

Everyone at Kenobi was assigned a service schedule each semester. Being at a school for magicians did not exempt the students from community responsibilities—“A wand in one hand, and the other to work.” Magic was finite, something that was best saved for things that couldn’t be done with simple elbow grease. As such, everything that _was_ possible without magic—cooking, cleaning, general management and upkeep of the campus—was performed by the student body according to a rotating schedule of tasks and chores. Rey was grateful to be assigned to Ahch-To library this semester. Sorting book returns was a serious step up from last spring, when she’d been assigned to the girl’s bathroom in the gymnasium. Forget everything anyone said about girls being cleaner than boys. Just…ugh.

(Ben had gotten her that assignment, by the way. Payback for turning his shampoo into gelatin ‘on accident’ – worth it.)

“So…” Rose leaned against the shelf, tapping her fingers rhythmically along the cover of the book in her hands, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Are you and Ben…you know…”

Rey snorted, shooting Rose a ‘really’ glance. “What do you think?”

“I _think_ it would be a long time coming—”

“What?!”

“Ms. Niima!” Ms. Posibelf snapped.

Rey cringed, giving an apologetic wave. The librarian huffed, returning to the book she was reading. Probably some magical version of a trashy romance novel, with Centaurs and Nymphs getting it on under a weeping willow.

“Oh, c’mon Rey. You can’t tell me you’ve seriously never thought about it. I mean…it’s _Ben_. He’s what you get when you cross Adonis with Hades. All beautiful and deadly and—”

“We are all aware how much of a biscuit you find my roommate to be—”

“ _Rey_. Eight years you’ve shared a room with the embodiment of ‘wet dream’ and you’ve not once, _once_ indulged in the ‘what ifs’? Are you sure you’re not into girls?”

Rey rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “…I mean, _no_. But you are forgetting that I am anathema to that man. It’s kind of hard to get giddy for a boy who treats you like gum on the bottom of his shoe.”

Rose looked at her funny then, making Rey hike her shoulders up and mumble, “What?”

“You really don’t see how he looks at you, do you?”

Rey frowned. “With homicide in his eyes?”

Rose snickered, ignoring Ms. Posibelf’s “ _sh_!” as she picked up another book and shoved it onto the shelf. “Oh, you really are a loveable idiot.”

Rey scowled, not following, and Rose gave a dramatic sigh. Then her hands came down on Rey’s shoulders, and the look Rose leveled her made Rey want to hide.

“Let the record show that I tried.”

Then she patted Rey’s cheek and walked down the stacks and out of the library.

Rey stood there a minute, unsure what to do with her hands beyond scratching at the back of her ear. People were still staring, still whispering, but they’d long faded into the background. Something hollow and uncertain settled in her chest, and she fumbled for the next book in the cart, ignoring the title and shoving it randomly between the others on the shelf.

An hour later, she was alphabetizing the books in the Medieval section at the back of the library when it appeared at the end of the aisle.

The shadow, clear as she had ever seen it and mere paces away.

She froze, poised on her tip toes with the book she was holding high above her head. She expected it to disappear as soon as her eyes locked on it, but this time it just stood there – hovered there, whatever. Rey lowered herself slowly back onto her heels, and it trembled slightly.

Her hand went for the saber at her hip.

Though it had no face—no eyes or ears or mouth—the shadow seemed to be looking at her with curiosity as she slowly pulled the hilt of the sword from her waistband and unsheathed it with a low hum. It was dark in the stacks back here, and the blade of the saber cast the shadow in a soft blue light. Rey could see it clearly now, how its edges quivered like smoke, and yet its center was dark as ink swirling in water. The shadow shifted sideways, and she stepped forward to meet it.

“What are you?” She hissed, “What do you want?”

The shadow said nothing, of course, but she thought it might understand her. It slid back, back, until it hit the end of the aisle. Then it turned the corner and disappeared behind another stack.

Rey cast a quick glance about—this section of the library was positively abandoned at this hour. She followed after it.

It was waiting for her on the other side. As soon as she caught sight of it again, it continued on, leading her deeper into the maze of bookshelves. Kenobi’s libraries were some of the oldest archives of magical texts in the world, with tomes dating back hundreds of years. This particular section of the library was wicked old, and parts of it had been cordoned off entirely. It was something the Coven had instated recently—restricted reading. Only those with approval from the highest leadership were permitted to enter these sections.

The shadow slipped under—no, _through_ —one of the velvet ropes closing off a row of stacks. It hovered on the other side, waiting until Rey stepped closer. She paused at the rope, deliberating. No doubt it was magicked.

“I can’t pass this,” She whispered to the shadow, looking into its faceless stare, “I’m sorry, but this is as far as I can go.”

The shadow turned away and wandered down the aisle, and Rey thought it might not understand. But then it stopped, drifting closer to one of the bookcases. Her eyes widened as a book slid from the middle shelf.

The tome—old, thick, bound in faded black leather—floated softly towards her. She retracted the saber’s blade and tucked the hilt back into her pants. She lifted her hands, and the book settled heavily into her palms.

“Ugh!” She grimaced as the dust layer covering it puffed up into her face. She blew at the light cloud, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she looked down at the cover.

_The Rammahgon_

Rey frowned and turned back to the shadow, but it was gone.

The book flew open then, and it was all she could do not to drop it, biting down on a yelp. The pages kicked up more dusts as they flipped rapidly, the light wind it made ruffling the hairs at her temple. And then they stopped.

_I_

_Chapter 1: The Wellspring_

Rey squinted in the dim light—the text was old, faded, and small. Bloody hell, it was written in _cursive_. How old was this thing?

“And from the Wellspring came forth all magic…” She breathed, and frowned. The words disappeared as soon as she read them, leaving the page blank—

The book came to life again, the pages shuffling rapidly.

_III_

_Chapter 4: The Wars of the Wood_

_And so it came to pass that the Wars of the Woods was fought between the mages of Coruscant and the Serpent King Typhojem, and the blood of man and beast ran red in the rivers and streams, and the hills were blackened with death—_

Blank. Again, the pages flipped.

_IV_

_Chapter 10: The Silent Years_

_The Word of Magic was lost. Few remained what recalled its song, fewer still who could summon its melody to cast. One such was Ri-Lee, a goatherder born to the great mage Kli the Elder. Ri-Lee set out atop a pony and traveled the Isles, singing spells the world had long forgotten. And the common folk learned his songs, and sang them to others. In time, the voices of many lifted the Word anew, and Magic returned to the kingdom—_

“Ms. Niima?”

Rey slammed the book closed, whirling around just as Ms. Posibelf came around the corner, adjusting her glasses and squinting into the shadows. “What are you doing back here, girl?”

“Nothing, I – there was a rat.”

The librarian frowned. “A rat?”

“Yes, I saw him nibbling on one of the books. Chased him away, and he ran back here.”

Posibelf shuddered visibly, her eyes scanning the floor as if the critter might be lurking nearby.

“Blasted pests. You’d swear they were immune to magic. Anyways, the library will be closing soon, dear. Are you about finished with your sorting?”

“Of course, be out in a minute,” Rey grinned brightly, the book pressed to her back. Ms. Posibelf gave her a lingering frown, then nodded and made her way back to the front sections. Rey cast another glance down the aisle, wondering if the shadow would come back.

It didn’t.

*****

Ben wasn’t in their room. Rey shut the door behind her and locked it, then took out the book from her bag. She used a discarded sock to wipe of the remaining dust from its cover, running her fingers over the leather. There was no author, no date of publication. Just the title, embossed into the black skin.

She rushed to her bed and ducked low, rifling beneath it for the suitcase she had there. It was old, not as old as the book of course, and filled with the few knickknacks and mementos she had collected over the years. Her old boater hat. Her first Christmas cards from Rose and Finn and Poe. An origami crane—the first clean transmutation spell she’d ever cast.

She set the book inside, zipped it up, and shoved the suitcase back under the bed.

Then she went to find Ben.

It took her a while to track him down, partly because she didn’t dare ask around for him and fan the flames of school gossip any further. It was late afternoon by the time she finally spotted him walking past White Chapel towards the northern edge of campus, in the direction of the Wavering Wood. She ran down the steps of the alchemy building and followed him.

Kenobi School of Magicks was an ancient compound, more medieval castle than campus. It sat atop the Catacombs of Mustafar, whose depths ran so profound that parts of them remained unexplored. There were hundreds of doors in the main halls and towers that made up the school, some of which had been shut for centuries. Her third year, Rey had made it a point to open as many of them as possible, and that’s how she discovered the echo chamber, the never-ending hallway, and the planetarium. But even now, following Ben as he rounded Serreno Tower to come to the thickets and spindly alders that padded the upper reaches of school grounds, she realized she’d never ventured through this part of Kenobi.

Ben was twitchy. Even from afar, she could see the muscles in his neck and back jump and tick as he all but ran into the overgrowth, swatting back bushes and low-hanging limbs as he went. It was chilly out, the fall evenings getting cooler each day, and yet Ben was wearing nothing but his black sweater rolled up at the elbows. He fussed at the collar and gave a sharp hiss, smacking at a rogue frond before running his hand through his hair and tugging sharply.

“Ben?”

He jerked to a stop with comical violence, whipping around to gape at her.

“Niima?” Her name was gravel in his throat, “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you. Something’s happened—” She stepped forward, and he flinched as if she’d hit him. But then he was frowning, giving a quick shake of his head as if to clear it.

“Are you okay?”

“I – ” That brought her up short, something warm blooming inexplicably in her chest, “Yes, of course—”

“Good. Then whatever it is you wanted to say can wait,” Ben whirled back on his heel and kept driving deeper into the woods.

“Ben, stop, I need to talk to you—”

“For the love of God, Niima, now is not the time!” Ben yanked his wand from his waistband and pointed it forward. “ _Bridge over troubled water!_ ”

They’d come to the moat now, which here was little more than a wide river running through the forest. Rey’s steps stuttered as a narrow covered bridge materialized before them, unfurling over the water like a carpet. Ben was stepping onto is as soon as the far end touched down on the opposite bank.

“The shadow, Ben! It came to me, in the library! It—”

Rey ran down to the river’s edge and stepped onto the bridge. Ben let out a growl that wasn’t entirely human, squeezing his head between his hands.

“Niima, I’m…please, I promise. We can talk about this later. I’ll – _fuck –_ I’ll do whatever you want, just…just please go…”

Her hand came down on Ben’s back, and he all but howled, staggering to the side and knocking into one of the wooden pillars supporting the roof above them. He turned to her, and her blood ran cold.

His eyes were black. Like, actually black. Iris had given way completely to pupils that swallowed near all of the white around them. Rey retracted her hand, stumbling back a step.

“Ben?”

He was shaking violently now, his skin red and slick with a sheen of sweat. The veins in his neck stood out, and she could see his pulse pounding within them. Fuck, she could practically _feel_ his heart racing, like some kind of dull pulse emanating from within him. It hit her in soft waves, making her skin break out in gooseflesh.

“Rey…” His voice was sandpaper, and for the briefest moment, something vulnerable and beseeching passed over his face. And then it was gone, and so was Ben.

The change was instant. One moment, he was wincing, panting as if he couldn’t get enough air, and then he wasn’t looking at her. His expression wiped clean, all the pain evaporating as he shot straight, his head tilting sharply as his ears caught on something she couldn’t hear. His lips curled slightly, and the growl that rolled from his stomach and up his throat made every hair on her body stand on end.

Ben struck first, so suddenly she didn’t register the grindylow curling over the edge of the bridge’s railing until Ben was dragging it down and slamming it against one of the pillars. It shrieked and spit, its great mouth snapping viciously at him. It was large, one of the biggest she’d seen, and covered in green scales over a slimy body. It had something like hind legs with webbed feet and fins spread out over its back haunches and forearms, its fingers long and gnarled and tipped with sharp claws. It swiped at Ben’s face, almost catching his cheek.

It took Rey a moment to process exactly what was happening. But when the grindylow wrapped a slimy arm around Ben’s neck, she fumbled for the saber in her waistband.

It wasn’t necessary. Ben moved in a blur, and suddenly the river beast was being thrown on the floor, and Ben was…

Well, Ben was dismembering it.

Rey stumbled backwards, eyes wide in horror, as Ben tore the creature apart with both efficiency and complete savagery, his hands dark with its greenish black blood. It was dead within moments, and yet he did not stop. He seemed to be possessed by an unmitigated rage, snarling and huffing as he turned the creature into a mess of slime and scales. Only when there were no more limbs to tear did he uncurl himself from his crouch over the body.

He looked up, and there was nothing left of Ben in that dark stare. Rey ran.

She wasn’t fast enough.

Her foot touched down on the bank, and he was already on her. He caught her around the waist, hauling her clean off her feet and throwing her hard against the trunk of a nearby tree. Rey struggled in his grasp, her back meeting bark, and then he had her hands in his blood-soaked fist. He gathered her wrists and pinned them to her throat, so that her fists tucked high beneath her chin, tipping her head back slightly. Crowding her against the tree, he pressed her hands into her Adam’s apple, tight enough to steal her next breath.

Rey closed her eyes and waited. Would he kill her, take her apart bit by bit like he had the grindylow? Would he make it quick, maybe tear her throat out and drink her down? Would he bite her, turn her into a beast like him? Would he…

Ben leaned in and dragged his nose from the part where her shoulder and neck met and up, up, up to the soft spot behind her ear. Her skin pebbled at the feel of his breath—sharp, hot—gusting over her with each pant. She titled her head slightly, trying to get away, but he took it as an invitation and pressed his open mouth to the exposed skin there. Not quite a kiss, but not a bite either. And Rey? Well, Rey wasn’t sure what to make of this.

His hips shifted forward slightly, one strong thigh slipping between her legs to pin her harder against the tree. The angle brought the top of his thigh to the apex of hers, and Rey’s eyes blew wide at the contact.

It was…nice wasn’t the right word. She didn’t have a word for this. Ben shifted that leg so that it not only pressed her back, but up, and a mix of panic and pleasure shot through her veins like lightning, leaving behind a crackle and burn that had her shaking.

The sounds of the forest came to her muted; the blood pounding behind her ears made everything sound far away, as if she were under water. That smell of his—cool, damp, a little earthy with the barest hint of sweetness—filled her head and lungs and mouth. It made something inside of her melt. Another thrust of his leg and the sensation ballooned within her, swelling up, like a wave preparing to crest.

She whimpered, and his growl was undeniably appreciative.

His free hand—the one that had planted on her hip—squeezed her tighter, the thumb digging into the muscle that curved down from her hip to wrap under her pelvis. She felt it there, the pressure of his fingertips flexing into her. That treacherous thumb extended, spreading out in an arc to delve slightly beneath the waistband of her school khakis, and she tightened her legs around his on instinct. They both groaned this time.

She could feel the grindylow blood on his hands, sticky and cooling in the fall air. It was at once repulsive and darkly erotic, the way he painted her skin in greenish black as the hand at her hip drifted across her belly to slide higher, dragging her sweater up as it went. The tops of his fingers tickled the edge of her sports bra, just beneath her right breast, and that wave swelling inside of her dipped suddenly, making her stomach swoop in a way that mimicked free fall. In a way that she felt at the very center of her, hot and wet and wanting.

Oh my fucking god, she was _turned on._

His open mouth, still hovering over the pulse point in her neck, stole her attention once more. He dragged his lips to the corner of her jaw, that full bottom lip catching on the underside of it as he moved to her chin, nipping it lightly. She shivered at the feeling of his tongue resting behind his teeth, the tip grazing her skin ever so slightly. He tilted his head, dragging the round point of his nose past the corner of her mouth and higher, skimming the bridge against the side of hers. He pressed his chin to her forehead, those hot breaths fanning her temple and ruffling the baby hairs there. On the next upward thrust of his thigh, he angled his hips forward in a way that made it clear Rey wasn’t the only one enjoying this. Bloody hell, the hard feel of his cock digging into her stomach—thick, long, _devastating_ —had one of her legs inching up, trapping his thigh between hers. And he liked that, if the rumble deep in his chest was any indication.

His fingers played at the edge of her bra, but as he shifted his hand to the side, his pinky drove higher. She was not even sure he meant to do it, but when the pad of his finger caught her nipple, flicking it the tiniest bit as it passed, her back arched on instinct, crushing her tits to his chest. She inhaled sharply, her head tilting back so that her nose skimmed the underside of his jaw. A tear slid from the corner of her eye—not from fear, just feeling.

He must have smelled it, because then his lips were sliding down her forehead, around her brow bone and the corner of her eye. His mouth hovered at her cheek a moment, and then he was _licking_ her, dragging the flat of his tongue languidly from jaw to temple. Catching the tear and leaving a path of fire in its wake.

“Ben…”

The moment his name left her lips, Ben froze. In the fog of lust that had robbed her of sense, Rey fumbled to piece together what followed. His hands flexed, one moment relaxing their hold on her and the next gripping her so tightly she winced and mewled. The sound seemed to hit Ben square in the chest, and suddenly he was staggering back, a bloody hand going to his throat and squeezing so hard it made the veins in his fist pop. She saw his eyes flicker, the black dilating rapidly as if he were sliding in and out of consciousness. Battling to break through the haze of his depravity, to subdue the wolf enough to—

“Go,” He bit out, and his voice was not his own, “Please, I—”

He pivoted on his heel then and stumbled towards the bridge. It took Rey a moment to come back to herself, and by the time she was of enough mind to push off the tree and follow, Ben was already across the bridge, wand pointed over his shoulder. The bridge disintegrated, and Rey skid to a halt at the bank of the river. She watched him run deep into the woods, leaving her standing there with eyes wide and heart in her throat.

A million thoughts ran through her mind, painted in heat and ache and want, want, want, she _wanted_ …

Slumping down to the ground, she ran a shaky hand over her wet cheek and huffed out a breath that was part laugh, part whine.

Well—

“Fuck.”

_Now what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's porn with plot from here on out, babes! 
> 
> Your thoughts in the comments below!


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